I would like to say that we have a great story for naming Ailbe what we did, but we don't. I came across the name long before I was even pregnant, loved it and eventually used it. The name was Celtic, which I liked, and other than that I just thought it was pretty and I could hear Rooney saying it.
Not long ago I was looking her name up on the internet. I came across a couple of stories of famous Ailbe's and thought they were very interesting. The first story is of St. Ailbe, the Patron Saint of Wolves (this story is found on
www.mainlesson.com). Hmmmm that must just be a coincidence but the connection with dogs was comforting. The other story is of Celtic Mythology and Ailbe of the Freckled Cheeks (that will probably also be a coincidence). This story can be found on
High Kings.
THE WOLF-MOTHER OF SAINT AILBEThis is the story of a poor little Irish baby whose cruel father and mother did not care anything about him. But because they could not sell him nor give him away they tried to lose him. They wrapped him in a piece of cloth and took him up on the mountain side, and there they left him lying all alone on a bush of heather.
Now an old mother wolf was out taking her evening walk on the mountain after tending her babies in the den all day. And just as she was passing the heather bush she heard a faint, funny little cry. She pricked up her pointed ears and said, "What's that!" And lo and behold, when she came to sniff out the mystery with her keen nose, it led her straight to the spot where the little pink baby lay, crying with cold and hunger.
The heart of the kind mother wolf was touched, for she thought of her own little ones at home, and how sad it would be to see them so helpless and lonely and forgotten. So she picked the baby up in her mouth carefully and ran home with him to her den in the rocks at the foot of the mountain. Here the little one, whose name was Ailbe, lived with the baby wolves, sharing their breakfast and dinner and supper, playing and quarreling and growing up with them. The wolf-mother took good care of him and saw that he had the best of everything, for she loved him dearly indeed. And Ailbe grew stronger and stronger, taller and taller, handsomer and handsomer every day, living his happy life in the wild woods of green Ireland.
Now one day, a year or two after this, a hunter came riding over the mountain on his way home from the chase, and he happened to pass near the cave where Ailbe and the wolves lived. As he was riding along under the trees he saw a little white creature run across the path in front of him. At first he thought it was a rabbit; but it was too big for a rabbit, and besides it did not hop. The hunter jumped down from his horse and ran after the funny animal to find out what it was. His long legs soon overtook it in a clump of bushes where it was hiding, and imagine the hunter's surprise when he found that it had neither fur nor horns nor four feet nor a tail, but that it was a beautiful child who could not stand upright, and whose little bare body ran on all-fours like a baby wolf! It was little Ailbe, the wolf-mother's pet, who had grown so fast that he was almost able to take care of himself. But he was not quite able, the hunter thought; and he said to himself that he would carry the poor little thing home to his kind wife, that she might take care of him. So he caught Ailbe up in his arms, kicking and squealing and biting like the wild little animal he was, and wrapped him in a corner of his great cloak. Then he jumped on his horse with a chirrup and galloped away out of the woods towards his village.
But Ailbe did not want to leave his forest home, the wolf-den, and his little wolf brothers. Especially he did not want to leave his dear foster mother. So he screamed and struggled to get away from the big hunter, and he called to the wolves in their own language to come and help him. Then out of the forest came bounding the great mother wolf with her four children, now grown to be nearly as big as herself. She chased after the fleeting horse and snapped at the loose end of the huntsman's cloak, howling with grief and anger. But she could not catch the thief, nor get back her adopted son, the little smooth-skinned foundling. So after following them for miles, the five wolves gradually dropped further and further behind. And at last, as he stretched out his little arms to them over the hunter's velvet shoulder, Ailbe saw them stop in the road panting, with one last howl of farewell. They had given up the hopeless chase. And with their tails between their legs and their heads drooping low they slunk back to their lonely den where they would never see their little boy playmate any more. It was a sad day for good wolf-mother.
But the hunter carried little Ailbe home with him on the horse's back. And he found a new mother there to receive him. Ailbe never knew who his first mother was, but she must have been a bad, cruel woman. His second mother was the kind wolf. And this one, the third, was a beautiful Princess. For the hunter who had found the child was a Prince, and he lived in a grand castle by a lake near Tipperary, with hundreds of servants and horses and dogs and little pages for Ailbe to play with. And here he lived and was very happy; and here he learned all the things which in those days made a little boy grow up into a wise and great man. He grew up so wise and great that he was made a Bishop and had a palace of his own in the town of Emly. People came to see him from far and near, who made him presents, and asked him questions, and ate his dinners.
But though he had grown so great and famous Ailbe had never forgotten his second mother, the good wolf, nor his four-footed brothers, in their coats of gray fur. And sometimes when his visitors were stupid and stayed a long time, or when they asked too many questions, or when they made him presents which he did not like, Ailbe longed to be back in the forest with the good beasts. For they had much more sense, though they had never kissed the Blarney Stone, which makes one talk good Irish.
A great many years afterwards there was one day a huge hunt in
Emly. All the lords for miles around were out chasing the wild beasts, and among them was the Prince, Ailbe's foster-father. But the Bishop himself was not with them. He did not see any sport in killing poor creatures. It was almost night, and the people of Emly were out watching for the hunters to return. The Bishop was coming down the village street on his way from church, when the sound of horns came over the hills close by, and he knew the chase was nearing home.
Louder and louder came the "tantara-tara!" of the horns, and then he could hear the gallopy thud of the horses' hoofs and the yelp of the hounds. But suddenly the Bishop's heart stood still. Among all the other noises of the chase he heard a sound which made him think—think—think. It was the long-drawn howl of a wolf, a sad howl of fear and weariness and pain. It spoke a language which he had almost forgotten. But hardly had he time to think again and to remember, before down the village street came a great gaunt figure, flying in long leaps from the foremost dogs who were snapping at her heels. It was Ailbe's wolf-mother.
He recognized her as soon as he saw her green eyes and the patch of white on her right foreleg. And she recognized him, too,—how I cannot say, for he had changed greatly since she last saw him, a naked little sunbrowned boy. But at any rate, in his fine robes of purple and linen and rich lace, with the mitre on his head and the crozier in his hand, the wolf-mother knew her dear son. With a cry of joy she bounded up to him and laid her head on his breast, as if she knew he would protect her from the growling dogs and the fierce-eyed hunters. And the good Bishop was true to her. For he drew his beautiful velvet cloak about her tired, panting body, and laid his hand lovingly on her head. Then in the other he held up his crook warningly to keep back the ferocious dogs.
"I will protect thee, old mother," he said tenderly. "When I was little and young and feeble, thou didst nourish and cherish and protect me; and now that thou art old and gray and weak, shall I not render the same love and care to thee? None shall injure thee."
Then the hunters came tearing up on their foaming horses and stopped short to find what the matter was. Some of them were angry and wanted even now to kill the poor wolf, just as the dogs did who were prowling about snarling with disappointment. But Ailbe would have none of it. He forbade them to touch the wolf. And he was so powerful and wise and holy that they dared not disobey him, but had to be content with seeing their hunt spoiled and their prey taken out of their clutches.
But before the hunters and their dogs rode away, Saint Ailbe had something more to say to them. And he bade all the curious townsfolk who had gathered about him and the wolf to listen also. He repeated the promise which he had made to the wolf, and warned every one thenceforth not to hurt her or her children, either in the village, or in the woods, or on the mountain. And turning to her once more he said:—
"See, mother, you need not fear. They dare not hurt you now you have found your son to protect you. Come every day with my brothers to my table, and you and yours shall share my food, as once I so often shared yours."
And so it was. Every day after that so long as she lived the old wolf-mother brought her four children to the Bishop's palace and howled at the gate for the porter to let them in. And every day he opened to them, and the steward showed the five into the great dining hall where Ailbe sat at the head of the table, with five places set for the rest of the family. And there with her five dear children about her in a happy circle the kind wolf-mother sat and ate the good things which the Bishop's friends had sent him. But the child she loved best was none of those in furry coats and fine whiskers who looked like her; it was the blue-eyed Saint at the top of the table in his robes of purple and white.
But Saint Ailbe would look about him at his mother and his brothers and would laugh contentedly. "What a handsome family we are!" he would say. And it was true.
High King- Cormac Mac Airt 
Cormac was the son of Art and grandson of Conn Cétchathach, high king of Ireland. He succeeded his grandfather after his death. Cormac ruled during the time when Finn Mac Cumhaill was captain of the Fianna, the high king's personal bodyguards and the elite force of warriors during the time of war.
Cormac Mac Airt was considered to be a great high king, ruling Ireland with wisdom and justice, which the Tuatha Dé Danann thought very highly of him.
Cormac married Eithne (probably Eithne Tháebfhota) and was the father of two sons: Cairbre Lifechair and Cellach. Cormac was also the father of two daughters named Gráinne (Grainne) and Ailbe Grúadbrecc (Ailbe of the Freckled Cheeks).
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In the tale, titled Echtrae Cormaic (The Adventure of Cormac), which was found in several manuscripts, it tells of his travel into the otherworldly Tir Tairgire (Land of Promise).
Cormac met a warrior at Tara, who has a branch with three golden apples. When the branch was shaken, beautiful, unearthly music could be heard. The warrior would only give the branch only if Cormac would give him three wishes; the high king agreed.
After a year, the warrior returned to Tara, and the first wish was Cormac's daughter, Ailbe. So the king gave his daughter to the nameless warrior. In the following month, the warrior returned with his second wish: Cairbre Lifechair, Cormac's son. Cormac readily agreed, so the warrior took Cairbre. When the warrior asked for Eithne, Cormac angrily refused to surrender his wife. So the warrior spirited Eithne out of Tara, and escaped from pursuit, using his magic. The warrior enevloped the land with strange mist, so Cormac became lost.
After various adventures, Cormac came upon a dun, where his host offered him hospitality. His host told the king that the pig he has on a spit could not be cooked until he could tell a story that was true. So Cormac recount the event of what had happened to him, and how he lost his wife, daughter and son to a nameless warrior. At the end of the story, the roasted pig was ready.
However, it seemed that Cormac has a geis, where he can't dine until there was in the company of fifty. His host caused the king to fall asleep, so when he woke, he found himself seated with fifty warriors, as well as his missing wife and children.
The nameless warrior introduced himself as Manannán Mac Lir. Manannán showed three pieces of a golden cup. It was the cup of truth: three lies will break the cup and three truths will restore the cup. So Manannán told the king that Eithne had slept with no other man since she had left Tara. His daughter Ailbe was still a virgin and his son Cairbre had not slept with any woman. So with three truths, the broken cup was magically restored.
Then Manannán gave the magic cup and branch to Cormac, but must be returned at the end of his reign. The next day the king and his family were returned to Tara. Cormac used the cup during his reign to determine the falsehood from the truth.
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In the Tóraigheacht Dhiarmada agus Ghráinne (The Pursuit of Díarmait and Gráinne), though betrothed to Finn Mac Cumhaill, Gráinne was in love with the younger companion of the Fian captain, Diarmait Ó Duibhne. Her love for Diarmait, caused serious harm to the friendship of two Fian warriors. Cormac and Angus Óg (foster-father of Diarmait) made an uneasy peace between Finn and Diarmait, where Finn married another daughter of Cormac. However, it in tragedy when Finn refused to heal Diarmait, who was mortally wounded by wild boar. In some version, the tale ended with Diarmait's death, while in other versions, Gráinne ended up marrying Finn. While in one version, Finn married Ailbe Grúadbrecc (Ailbe of the Freckled Cheeks) at the intervention of Angus Og, after Finn made peace with Diarmait.
Cormac became emboiled in a war against the Dananns, when Cellach raped a niece of Angus Óg. Cellach was Cormac's nephew. During a battle, Cellach was killed and the king lost one of his eyes. This barred him from kingship. Without any choice, Cormac Mac Airt abdicated.
His son Cairbre Lifechair succeeded him as high king of Ireland. Unlike his father, Cairbre did not like the Fianna.
Life with two kids has been crazy and it's not crazy because they're demanding alot. Rooney maybe even less so. It's been crazy because of the constant retraining of how to organize your life. We're still working on it but we've been learning a few tricks. One of which is I have recently taught Rooney how to open all the baby gates in the house. We really weren't using them much for him anymore and it became a hassle when I would ask him to get something and he would say "I can't the gate is locked!". Mike did make the rule with him that if the gate is closed he has to re-close it behind him. He's been pretty good with it so far and now there's no excuse why he can't get his shoes.
Rooney having full access to the house now is also a little bittersweet. It's just another reminder that he is getting so big. I knew once Ailbe was born Rooney was going to look even more mature than he was and he is. Now when I look at him I see "kid" and I can easily see him as a 7 year old or a 10 year old. All legs and arms and laughing himself silly over a fart joke. It's not far off because he is already doing it. Ailbe is changing alot herself. All of a sudden she went from tiny little pink thing to cutie pie butterball. 
She definitely has the chubby cheeks, biscuit arms and legs. When did that happen? She's starting to grow out of her newborn clothes and it's all happening so fast! The other night I just held her because I feel like I don't get to hold her like I want to. I always have to put her down for one reason or the next. I know I got alot more snuggle time in with Rooney so I really have to make sure I get them in before it's too late. I won't get her just laying there for much longer.
