Not-So-Small Stuff

Our youngest son texted me a few weeks ago to tell me that his older daughter, who will be turning three in a couple of months, was randomly "reminiscing about Grammy helping her with 'small stuff.'"  (She is a petite little thing and was an incredibly verbal child from a young age.  She has an enormous vocabulary now, and she's very in tune with what grown-ups are saying; so she's a tiny person who often says big things.) Awww...that text just melted me, and it made me start reminiscing about her family’s week with us in November, when they came from TN for Thanksgiving.

That adorable little girl loved being here--and she really loved playing in our basement.  It's a bit of a kids' paradise down there, with ride-ons and building blocks and lots of vintage children's books and boy-friendly toys from when her daddy and his brothers were little, as well as lots of new (make that thrifted) items we've acquired over the years we've been in VA, such as a toy kitchen, dolls, dollhouses, etc. Every day we'd head down there and the first thing she wanted to do was to raid the dinosaur and animal bins to find all the smallest ones. 

My little sweetie knew just where to look for the small stuff she wanted to play with, because Papa and I are insanely organized when it comes to putting things back where they belong after the grandkids have been wreaking havoc playing down there.  I say "insanely" because we get teased about this by one of our darling daughters-in-law and her husband--my very own son, the traitor!--about how OCD-like we are when it comes to toy organization in our playroom. (They might have a point: we have separate storage areas for the "regular" dinosaurs and the much cooler Jurassic Park ones.  Is that crazy?)  But imagine if the small stuff was all mixed in willy-nilly with the cars and trucks, the blocks, the baby doll accessories, the Lion King toys...it would be mayhem, I tell you, utter mayhem!  My little angel would have had to dump all eight bins in this storage unit every morning to find her favorite little animals and dinosaurs!  Thanks to our much-mocked system, she only had to dump two!  (One of these days, I'll treat you to a post all about our basement playroom and how organized it is.  Stay tuned...or perhaps the better way to put it is be warned.)

So my little granddaughter and I would gather up all the small creatures and line them up and play with them, and that is how we spent many happy hours while she was staying with us that week.  And then sometimes, all that playing would get too exhausting; once, she even crawled into my lap mid-play and crashed. I was, as her mommy and daddy call it, nap-trapped.  And I was quite okay with that.

I miss that little peanut, and her baby sister. (Not to mention her parents.)  It's hard for a mother not to have all of her chicks in the nest anymore, or at least to have the nests they're building with their own chicks a few trees over from hers.  I have three of my five boys and their families living close enough to see regularly, though, and I count myself as very blessed. And thank goodness for FaceTime!  Lately, whenever we FaceTime with this little girl, she reminds us, "I came to your house."  Yes, she did. And I hope she comes here many, many more times in the years ahead.

We will be going to her house in a matter of weeks, and I can hardly wait.  The fact that she was reminiscing about playing with small stuff with her Grammy here a couple of months ago made me realize that she's getting old enough to remember things between visits; so I look forward to making some new memories with her there. 

The small stuff, it's really the big stuff.  But you know that, dear readers.

Rules for the Living Room

It's the living room, but also fondly known as the "Rosary Room," a title we bestowed on our old living room back in New Hampshire (in the house where we lived for 26 years) and brought along with us to Virginia when we moved here in 2017. 

That NH living room was a lovely sage green, or leaf green--I'm not sure what to call it.  I painted it when it was still unfurnished (we couldn't afford to furnish every room right away, as we started out a bit "house poor" when we bought that just-a-tad-beyond-our-means dream home in late 1990, the beloved Colonial in which we raised our five boys and thought we might live forever).  I just really wanted a green living room, don't ask me why.  Then one day in 1994 when my husband and I were out grocery shopping at BJ's Wholesale Club, we saw a floral couch and loveseat set upholstered in fabric that had the same green shade as the walls of our empty living room, for only $600--and it was a decent brand, Bassett.  We bought it and we've had it ever since. When we first toured the Virginia house which we ended up buying, I was delighted to see that its living room was painted almost exactly the same shade of green, incredibly, which meant that my trusty couch and loveseat would look perfect in there.  It seemed like a sign that we'd found our new home.

I'm inordinately attached to that pink-and-green couch and loveseat set.  It's probably a little weird.  I suppose after all these years, I should be yearning for a change; but the exact opposite is actually true.  If we didn't have it anymore, I wouldn't even feel like it was "our" living room. Our youngest son was only a year old when we bought it, and he's now about to turn 33 and the father of two little girls.  At this point, I've developed a sentimental attachment to my vintage set.  Through all the years when it was considered hopelessly dated-looking, I continued to love it.  (On a side note: I've heard through the grapevine that couches upholstered in floral fabrics are making a comeback, proving the wisdom of the age-old advice that if you hang onto something long enough, it will eventually come back in style.) 

One of my daughters-in-law has expressed amazement that we’ve had the same living room furniture for 32 years, and she can't imagine how it didn't get destroyed with five boys living under our roof.  But you see, they never used the living room to jump around or roughhouse, or to play noisy games. There was no TV in that room, no video game player. No one was allowed to bring food in there.  Without us having to really say much about it, it was understood that the living room was a peaceful place, where we did things like sit and talk, listen to music on the stereo, and pray our family Rosaries.  Our boys had plenty of other rooms where they could hang out, where they could draw and play board games, eat popcorn while they watched a VHS movie, or whatever, and they didn't really gravitate to that room. For me, the living room was an oasis of calm, of peace and quiet, in a loud and sometimes crazy testosterone-heavy house.  It's still that way for me here in VA, but the difference is that since this smaller house we live in has a more open floor plan, the living room is not separated from the other living spaces as much as our NH one was.  So the grandkids often wander into this pleasant little room with food in hand and need to be reminded that it’s not an eating room.  They sometimes stand and climb (and have on occasion even begun to wrestle!) on the couches, and they need to be reminded that only sitting properly is allowed, and that if they want to play energetic games they should head down to the basement playroom.  

After all the Christmas festivities were over and our oldest son headed back to WI with his family, I gave the house a deep clean.  And in the living room, there was some evidence that Papa and Grammy’s rules had been broken.  Among other things, I found a ball point pen wedged between the couch cushions (it hadn't leaked any of its ink, thank goodness) and a half-eaten Oreo, a couple of M & M's, and a hard-as-a-rock chocolate chip cookie (so who knows how long that had been there!) on the floor underneath the loveseat.  I knew that one of our grandsons had brought paper, scissors, and scotch tape in there to work on a little craft project, on a day when I was too tired to object, and there were pieces of tape stuck to the coffee table. None of this is the end of the world, I know; but if I don't nip it in the bud, I fear that I will lose my neat and tidy, calm little oasis--and that my precious floral couch and loveseat set might eventually even need to be replaced (NOOOOOO!). 

So I went on Etsy to have a downloadable sign made up for the Rosary Room, one that I can point to if I ever see any grandchild bending or breaking the rules.

I don't want to have a house where everything is hands-off, a place that makes visitors feel like they can't relax; but I also want to make sure that the kids know that the living room is not the place for rough play and making messes—especially when there are other rooms that are more suitable to those activities. Do you think I'm being unreasonable?  I mean, we also have a cozy family room in this house, right next to the open kitchen, with a big TV, a gas fireplace, and baskets of toys and children’s books. And the basement was finished off with the intention that it would 100% be the grandkids’ domain; it’s bright and cheery, toy-filled, with another TV and plenty of comfy seating.  Surely it’s okay for the living room to be preserved as a quieter, calmer space?…And the rules are ones my husband and I actually even follow ourselves (although I might bring my morning coffee in there on occasion--but adults are allowed to drink their beverages anywhere in the house.  Age has its privileges, after all!).

Anyway, wrapping this up: I've waxed poetic before about my not-very-special but very-special-to-me couch and loveseat set here at the blog, more than once; I'm probably getting a bit boring, and if you keep coming back anyway, then God bless you.  I know I'm like a broken record sometimes.  But you're aware that old people just like to keep repeating the same old stories, aren't you?  Yikes, that's what I'm doing. Perhaps then it might be time to close up shop here for good, before I embarrass myself?!  (Too late? Ha ha!)

Before I sign off, I thought I’d share just a couple of the many grandkids-on-the-couch pictures taken in our living room over the past nine years that we’ve lived in Virginia. A Rosary Room rule or two was being broken when these shots were taken, you might notice.  But moving forward, maybe my pretty little Etsy sign will help?

You might also notice that the wall of canvas portraits looks different in those two pictures.  It's a constantly evolving project of mine, as grandchildren keep getting added to our String of Pearls.  By the end of the month, I’ll need to do a little rearranging in order to make space for a new canvas, as our youngest grandchild will be turning one and joining the gallery of cuteness hanging above the couch in her Papa and Grammy's living room.  I can't wait!

Okay, then, I'm not going to blog about my couches anymore.  Pinky swear.  You've heard enough about them, surely. But I may share more kids-on-the-couch pictures, because we always seem to be taking those when we have our family get-togethers at this house.  And while my stories may be getting a tad old, those precious faces of theirs will never get old (says their unbiased Grammy!).

Christmas 2025 Re-cap

We had a wonderful Christmas here in Virginia! We were celebrating with the families of the three boys who live nearby (as well as some in-laws of theirs) in the days leading up to December 25, and then sons #3 and #4 and their families joined us for a party on Christmas afternoon, after Santa's gifts had been opened at their own homes and everyone had been to Mass.  I got to use my new professional-style stainless steel chafing dishes to serve up roasted pork, hash brown casserole, green bean casserole, and Buffalo chicken dip.  We had lots of other snacks and desserts to enjoy as well, and the kids opened Christmas crackers (which was always part of our Christmas Eve tradition when our boys were growing up).  Corny jokes were told, paper crowns were worn, really cheap prizes were fought over and broken, and all was right with the world!  I was living in the moment, mostly, so I didn't get many pictures on the Lord's birthday.  It was a peaceful and relaxing day. (Son #4's gang even came in their flannel Christmas jammies!  It doesn't get more relaxing than that.)

The day after Christmas, our oldest son packed up his 15-seater van, and he and his wife and seven kids started a two-day road trip from WI to VA.  They arrived the night of December 27. Then on the 28th, we got everyone together for yet another family party at our house, this time with four of the five boys and their families: 10 adults and 21 children altogether. (We were missing our youngest son and his crew, who were out in MI with his wife's family for Christmas this year.

I can't even put into words how much it warms my heart to see my menfolk hanging out together, talking, laughing (a lot), and solving the world's problems.

In order to respect the wishes of our oldest son about not posting images of his children on the Internet via this blog, I'll just share this one redacted photo we managed to get of all the kiddos who were there. Look at this crew!  And two were missing!  How abundantly blessed are we?!?!  Talk about a stairway to Heaven.

It was so wonderful having this WI family with us for just over a week.  Each of the brothers who live here in VA wanted to host them at their homes while they were here, so there were lots of little get-togethers throughout the week--on New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, and other days. It was a full and busy visit for them (and there was a little head cold/fever kind of a bug running through their family that put a bit of a wrench in the machinery here and there, but fortunately didn't ruin their week entirely). They left to make the 1,000-mile trek back home yesterday morning, and I miss them so much already.  

But of course...this quote from my favorite philosopher, Pooh Bear, is absolutely on the money.

I hope you had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, dear readers!  And that you will be blessed with peace, happiness, and good health in 2026.

45 Years and Still Going Strong!

Forty-five years ago today, my husband and I were married.  We were a couple of fresh-faced 22-year-olds, recent college graduates, when we tied the knot. But we didn't rush into marriage or anything.  High school sweethearts, we'd been "together" for over seven years by the time we were joined in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony.

Today I decided to do something I haven't done in years: I decided to try on my wedding dress. Probably not a great idea for someone who, ever since she turned the big six-oh, has been bemoaning the fact that half of the clothing items hanging in her closet don't fit her anymore.  But I just wanted to put it on for some crazy reason.

It doesn't fit, of course; I can't even begin to zip it up. I was a skinny little thing when I got married, although I didn't really appreciate that at the time. But even when I tried it on in my early 40's, when I weighed a good bit less than I do now, I couldn't zip it up.  I blamed an expanded rib cage and widened hip bones (LOL!), because I'd given birth to so many big babies.  My first two were normal-sized, under 8 lbs. each; but #3 was 9 lbs. 13 oz.; #4 was 10 lbs. 12 and 1/2 oz. (and 24 inches long!); and #5 was 10 lbs. 2 oz. (So yeah, that was it: expanding bones, not expanding flesh!  Was I in denial, or what?  Are you falling off your chair laughing yet?)

Anyway, here's how the dress looked on my wedding day, when it was kind of hanging off me.

And here's how it looks now: skin-tight with the zipper gaping open in the back.  

The veil still fits, so I’ve got that going for me! 

I did love my dress, though.  I blogged about it many years ago, if you’d  like to visit that old post here.

Anyhoo--

The moral of the story is that wedding dresses look so much more magical and beautiful on dewey-faced young gals than they do on 67-year-old grandmothers of 23.  But I wouldn't change a thing about my blessed life!!  (Except maybe my waist measurement and the number on the scale!)  I wouldn't be that young bride again for a million bucks, because I would miss all the people who have joined our family in the years since that bitter-cold December day in 1980.

My husband and I went to morning Mass today, and I was reminded that December 27 is the Feast of St. John the Apostle/Evangelist.  We were actually married at a church named for another important John, St. John the Baptist.  And we bestowed the Irish version of the name John on our firstborn son. (I must admit that back then, I was not as aware of saints' feast days as I am now; but I think the Holy Spirit might have had something to do with the choice we made when naming our oldest son.)

This evening, that oldest son of ours will arrive with his wife and seven children, after a grueling two-day trip from Wisconsin, to spend a week with us here in Virginia.  What a great anniversary gift this is for his dad and me!  Tomorrow, we will have a Pearl get-together at our house with his three Virginia brothers and their families.  (Only our baby and his wife and two daughters will be missing; they are out in Michigan with his in-laws this year.  But four out of five sons ain't bad.)

This is my favorite picture from our wedding.  Don’t I look ecstatic? (And doesn't 
that groom look handsome?)

I’m praying to see our 50th anniversary.  My parents lived to see their 60th!  But no matter what, I’m grateful for the many wonderful years I’ve had with this guy of mine, still my boyfriend.  Life is good. God is good.  All the time.

Blog Keepsake Books, and a Holiday Photo Dump

For years, I've been wanting to have keepsake blog books made.  In my early blogging days, I was printing off all my posts and putting them in plastic pages in big binders; but two years in, that became way too hard to keep up with, and if I'd continued with that, by now I'd have an entire bookshelf filled with binders!  But the idea of hard copies has always appealed to me, especially in recent years.  For one thing, that would keep my blog--all those archived posts filled with memories!--safe from disappearing.  (I always imagine the Internet just shutting my site down, and never being able to figure out what happened to it.  That would probably never happen, but I have an active imagination!)  The other reason I love the idea of having actual books to look at is that ever since I got my first digital camera more than 15 years ago, I stopped making old-school photo albums.  I miss photo albums!  And I thought blog books could become our family scrapbooks/photo albums.

 

Well, I finally did I it! After receiving a modest, unexpected inheritance from my mom’s estate (not a lot, mind you; but enough to make me feel like I could splurge just a little), I recently had hardcover blog books printed up, with my favorite posts from each year since I started String of Pearls in 2011.  I used a site called PixxiBook, and I have been so pleased with the books I've received so far, eleven volumes altogether: Best of 2011, 2012, 2013 (which had to be split into two volumes, so prolific was I that year!), 2014, 2015, 2016-2017, 2018, 2019, 2020-2021, and 2022-2023.  I already have most of the next volume, Best of 2024-2025, ready to go, as soon as we get through the Christmas season and I can add the last few posts of the year to it.

I think the common way to use this site is to plug in your blog address, and then PixxiBook turns the entirety of your blog archives into one book--but only if it would be less than 300 pages long. If there are a lot of posts (for me, that was 1,600+ over the course of my blogging life), they divide them into a set of numbered volumes that are no more than 300 pages each, deciding on where to separate them without your input.  The layouts for the pages are also automated, which takes away all the design guesswork for the blogger.  When you're getting your books ready for print, you can remove any posts that you don't want included, and I definitely had to do that or I would have had so many books and this project would have been ridiculously expensive!  And I definitely wanted my volumes to be divided specifically by year; so I worked the system and figured out how to make my blog posts fit into books separated that way.

And I must say, these books really are so beautiful!  They are big, 8-and-1/2 x 11" (that is the only size offered), and I had no control over the sizes or placement of the pictures that accompanied each post. Some of the decisions they made about which pictures would fill up whole pages and which would be kept rather tiny are not decisions I would have made; but as the site explains, the automation takes all the burden of designing each page off the blogger, and I have to say that the end products are just lovely.   (By the way, I'm not being paid to promote this company or anything.  I just thought other bloggers might be interested in checking it out.)

A collage cover is automatically created for you.

The pages are thick--I think the quality is top-notch.

The color photos look amazing.

Okay, then, enough about that and on to the topic of holiday happenings in the Pearl family this joyous Advent season.  I am basically going to do a lead-up-to-Chrismas photo dump today, so that these pics will get into my latest PixxiBook volume.

Included are some pictures from a sweet girls'-day-out a few weeks ago, for "A Christmas Carol Tea" at a local tea house, with my daughter-in-law Braveheart and her two girls.

And then there's a photo my daughter-in-law Ginger, wife of son #2,  texted me recently of her hubby and their five boys in front of the tree...which gives me a distinct feeling of deja-vu, not only because we had five boys as well; but also because the littlest guy is wearing one of the red corduroy rompers I made for his dad and his dad's older brother to wear at Christmas back in 1985, along with its matching 40-year-old store-bought plaid shirt.  (Ginger loves to dress her boys in the few vintage hand-me-downs I was able to pass on to her.)

About a week ago, we got to watch some Christmas shows at the Catholic school about an hour south of us where eight of our grandchildren are students (one in 5th grade; one in 4th; three in 2nd--including the triplets and their cousin; and two in kindergarten--a pair of little girl cousins who are BFF's).  We got a picture with son #3, his in-laws, and his two youngest on the night his oldest two kids had their show.

Papa and Grammy sporting their Ugly Christmas Sweaters!

We also got a picture with his two oldest after their Christmas show--with both of their sets of grandparents!  #blessed

In the group shot of the Pearl gang, taken after the younger ones had their night to shine on the gymnasium stage, only the little guy on the far left is not yet a student at the Catholic school his siblings and cousins attend.  But it won't be long before he joins them.

Last night, son #3 and his wife hosted their second annual family Christmas party, a munchies-and-desserts affair that is so much fun for kids and adults alike.  We brought our gifts to the families of son #3 and son #4 (who live very close to one another), because even though the plan is for them all to come over after Christmas morning Mass tomorrow, for a little luncheon party, I wanted to make sure they had them. You know, in case (I hate to even say it!) anyone gets sick and we don't all end up getting together.  The kids were begging to be able to open their gifts from Papa and Grammy early, and we decided to let them. So they all got their personalized Rosaries.  And the girls got their capes made with velvet fabric from my late mother-in-law's attic (which I blogged about earlier in the month, in this post).  It was so adorable the way the girls reacted to those capes!  They loved them and all wanted to wear them right away.  I was touched by their reaction, I tell you.  And did they ever look adorable in them!  (I made eight more of these capes, one for each of my 13 granddaughters.  Someday maybe I can get a picture of them all wearing them together!)

I later found out that the two girls on the left put their capes back on, over their jammies, after 
showering last night; and the cutie pie second from the right brought her cape to bed with her.

The granddaughters were darn cute, indeed.  But my husband and two sons were pretty cute as well.  One of our boys and his dad even ended up wearing matching t-shirts, with no pre-planning.  Great minds.

We had lots of laughs, which is par for the course at Pearl get-togethers.  I was particularly tickled by a hilarious (and never-ending) exchange these two brothers had going on the family text stream, with the three brothers who weren't there at the party.  Son #3 started it when he posted this:

This is one of their favorite conversations to have: the debate over which one is Mom's favorite child.  (Which is why they all got ornaments like this from me in 2009.)  They all claim to hold the title. (Actually, they all do!  I always tell them it's a 5-way tie!)  But the texts and memes were flying back and forth for quite a while, and I couldn't stop laughing. At one point son #4 said, "It's cute watching you guys compete for second place. Sad, but cute." And son #2, who always insists he's my favorite, said, "When you know, you know."  I have the funniest boys.  They have given their father and me a lifetime of happiness, and I can't even imagine life without any one of them.  And I do love this humorous debate they like to have, because I know if they actually believed I had a favorite, it wouldn't be the source of amusement and laughter that it is.

And I think that's a good place to end this, as I ponder the many blessings I've been given.  I adore my sons! And tomorrow, God's only begotten Son comes into the world to save us all, because God loves his children so much--all of us exactly the same, without a favorite!

God bless us, every one!  Merry Christmas!

Let the Christmas Festivities Begin!

Last night we went to the most lovely Christmas party.  Our #3 son and his wife Preciosa rented out their friend’s coffee shop, and in a nod to her half-Cuban heritage, they had it catered with a traditional Noche Buena feast from a local restaurant: lechon, which is slow-roasted, mojo-marinated shredded pork shoulder; rice and spicy black beans; cucumber salad; roasted plantains; and toasted Cuban bread. Noche Buena is celebrated by Cubans on Christmas Eve, and if you really want to get serious about the meal, you roast a whole pig for it.

Guests brought some charcuterie and desserts to share.  Wine and beer (and delicious coffee!) flowed like…well, they flowed like wine, you could say.  Our contribution was a double-sized batch of the Oreo trifle that I always used to make for our boys’ Friday night team football dinners when they were in high school. It goes by many names, but we call it “Heavenly Dirt.”

There were about 30 people there, maybe more—and we were probably 30 years older than most of them (LOL!  But true story!); it was a predominantly young crowd, but we were so glad to be included.  What a delightful bunch!  We got to hang out with two of our boys and their wives, just us adults— and as much as we adore our grandchildren, this rare grown-ups-only time was so precious.

The friend who owns the coffee shop was actually a classmate of our second-oldest son when he was at Notre Dame, and this guy also got close to sons # 3 and 4 when they joined their brother out there. And now he lives right down the road from son #3. His establishment was such an ideal place to have a party like this.  If you’re ever in the Charlottesville area and you want to enjoy a great cup of coffee (or a latte or a chai tea or whatever), and sip it while relaxing in a really amazing space that feels both airy and spacious and intimately cozy at the same time, you should check his place out (First Free Coffee Bar).

I absolutely love this time of year.  I love having a party to dress up for, and meeting up with friends and especially family (THE funnest people I know), and eating delicious food prepared by someone else while Christmas music is playing in the background…it just doesn’t get much better than that.

Here’s wishing you all the joy of the Christmas season, dear readers. May your days be merry and bright! If your Christmas is also white, that’s a bonus; we don’t get those very often here in Virginia! But as much as I love seeing snow on the ground on the 25th of December, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now than right where I am.

How We Handle Christmas Gifts

Before I get started, Happy Feast of the Immaculate Conception, dear readers.  

We have been blessed with 23 grandchildren, abundantly blessed--and I can't tell you the number of times people have asked me how we "do Christmas" with so many to buy for.  It's a complicated question, because we don't have a set routine; each year has tended to be slightly different, and plans keep evolving with the addition of each new little one.  I didn't make a decision the day I became a grandmother about how I was going to handle the Christmas gift-giving thing.  (You know, the way some parents decide from the outset to give each of their children three gifts, like the Wise Men; or they give four: "something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read.") Part of me wishes that I had been that forward-thinking and organized about it, but I wasn't.  So as I said, it's a tough question to answer.

If we had 10 grandkids or less, I imagine I might have a different philosophy about Christmas gift-giving. But there is no way that we can be those over-the-top generous grandparents, the ones who give motorized ride-on cars and such, when there are 23 of them.  That would bankrupt us.  Even the whole matching Christmas jammies rigamarole is not something we can pull off these days  I tried that once, about six or seven years ago.  I hunted down coordinating PJ's for all of them; but somehow we never even got the requisite picture of all the grandkids gathered together in their red-and-black buffalo checks.  So I haven't tried that since.

When our three oldest grandchildren, all girls, were young, I used to sew matching Christmas dresses for them; but things were simpler back then.  For a time, they were our only grandchildren! That changed fast! In 2020, I did manage to get the five youngest girls matching red-and-white plaid taffeta dresses, which I'd bought at an after-Christmas clearance sale in 2019, hoping the sizes would work out a year later. They did, and it was adorable.

How cute are these little gals?

But I've got 13 granddaughters now, ages one to 14, who are all shapes and sizes, and all particular about how they like to dress (or how their mommies like to dress them); so that sort of thing just isn't going to happen anymore. 

Anyhoo, I was reading Leila Lawler's most recent post over at Like Mother, Like Daughter, and I realized that in her, I have a kindred spirit.  She has 22 grandchildren and a limited budget, she loves to give gifts handmade with love, and she realizes that it is not up to her to fulfill her grandchildren's wildest dreams at Christmastime.  She says, "I give myself permission to step down from the job of fulfilling their Christmas dreams.  That's the parent's job, really.  You know what I mean: if the child has been longing for a bike or a doll, the parents know best what to get...I've done my part, however inadequately, when my own children were growing up."  Lawler says it so much better than I could, and I totally agree that although grandparents play a vital role in the lives of their grandchildren, giving them the bestest-ever gifts at Christmas does not need to be priority number one.  It's okay as a grandmother to, as she puts it, "just relax into the role of the loving figure who sent you some little toy that wasn't the be-all and end-all."  She doesn't stress about it; she says she just tries "to give one gift per grandchild that is something along these lines: handmade, whimsical, and/or relating to a particular interest of the child."

Although I admittedly sometimes let myself worry about whether I'm doing "enough," Lawler's wise words really do resonate with me. I actually think it's even okay for grandparent gifts to be the ones that get the heave-ho over the shoulder, the way Ralphie and Randy do with their socks in the movie A Christmas Story.  (LOL--that reminds me of two Christmases ago, our "beach towel Christmas."  Sometime I'll give you a good chuckle and tell you all about that one!)

Seriously, though, I don't believe that grandparents need to compete with Santa.  Now don't get me wrong: even though gift-giving isn't my first love language, I do love giving gifts.  It's just that I'm happiest when I have an idea for something I can make rather than buy.  And it's not about the money, really; it's more about wanting to figure out something personal and meaningful for the people who mean the most to me.  I am more apt to want to find a special wished-for toy for each grandchild on their birthdays, when it's all about him or her. But on Christmas, it's all about Jesus, and I feel like the gifts that Papa and I give don't need to make anyone's dreams come true.  I never received anything but clothes and books from my grandparents, and that was okay by me; it was Santa, and Mom and Dad, who stockpiled longed-for toys under the tree and filled my stocking with tiny treasures.

My husband's parents, who ended up with a whopping 32 grandchildren, got to the point where they just gave out crisp five dollar bills at Christmas, and then eventually ten dollar bills. It had just gotten too hard to do gifts for that many kids!  We're not quite there yet, but I can see that as a possibility for how we'll handle things down the road--adjusted for inflation, of course.  :)

So, how's it going to go this year, you ask?  For Christmas 2025, our main gift for each grandchild will be a Rosary handcrafted with love for them by their Grammy.  The ones for the girls are made of white pearls, with rose-shaped beads for the Our Fathers; the ones for the boys are made of blue and gold pearls (Notre Dame colors!), with football-shaped beads for the Our Fathers; and all of them have their names spelled out in letter beads.  I made these way back in the spring, when I got the idea.  I was too excited to wait!  (I do realize that I have some grandchildren who are too young to appreciate or take care of these Rosaries yet; but I wanted to make them for all 23 anyway.)

It's really going to be a handmade Christmas (yay!), because I also stitched up short capes for all 13 granddaughters (well, full disclosure: eight are finished, and I'm currently working on the last five). My youngest son's wife suggested this project to me, and I thought it was genius!  I had to purchase some lining fabric and some metal sew-on clasps, but the yards and yards of lovely velvet material came from my late mother-in-law's attic (adding some sentimental value to these garments).   I'm hoping to get pictures of the girls modeling them, and if so I'll share them here at the blog someday. 

I've been busy in my basement sewing room!

Girls like pretty clothes, so I can do this sort of thing for the granddaughters; but boys, not so much.   I used to sew a bit for my grandsons when they were little guys, rompers and such; but these days, I don't think that's the way to go.  When it comes to clothes, a team jersey or a Pokemon t-shirt might be a hit; but they all have plenty of those.  So the girls will get the capes with their Rosaries, and the big boys will get new footballs (cool ones with favorite team logos on them--I'm not a total Grinch!).  The boys who are too little to care about footballs will get trucks (again, not a Grinch!).

I might have thrown a few extra toys into the mix for two of our wee granddaughters, who are almost 3 and almost one; but they are the only grandchildren we won't see this Christmas season (they'll be out in Michigan with their other grandparents), so I think it's okay to spoil them just a tad. 

This is how we're doing things this Christmas; it all might look totally different next year, depending on circumstances.  But I'm thrilled that this one is going to be a mostly homemade Christmas.

To wrap this up, I don't really think it's necessary, or even a good idea, to try to spoil our grandkids too much with stuff--in general, not just at Christmastime.  Their Papa and I prefer to spoil them with our time and attention, which we give as generously and joyfully as we possibly can throughout the year.

And now, down to the sewing room!