Mother of the Groom Outfit (My Last Hurrah)

The youngest of our five sons--and the only one who is still single--is getting married in less than three weeks.  At 26, he is more than ready to take this next big step in his life; but sometimes, his big brothers (who are between 5 and 9 years older than he) forget that he is no longer the baby brother obsessed first with all things Lion King and then with all things Jurassic Park.

Wait a minute...he is still slightly obsessed with both of those movies, and with movies in general (see his blog for proof of this).  But I digress.

I have had my dress since not too long after he and his fiancée, now known here at String of Pearls as Babisiu, became engaged in March.

You would think that on my fifth go-around, I would be an old pro at picking mother of the groom attire, and I'm not. But at least I've gotten past worrying too much about what I wear, knowing how little it really matters when you think about the monumentally important reason for the day: the sacramental union of two souls, whose whole purpose from that day forth is to help each other get to heaven.  When you think of it that way, dresses are pretty unimportant.

But dresses are fun, and nothing feels better than making a choice early on, with the plan that you will lose those stubborn 10-15 pounds you've gained in the past few years so that the dress will fall just so and look amazing; and then even when you haven't been able to make the desired weight loss happen, knowing that you've chosen a dress that will fit you anyway, and is cut in a way that is kind of magically forgiving of your many perceived flaws.  (And also, nothing feels better, more confidence-building, than modeling a dress for your husband and having him tell you that he really, really likes it!)

I have not tried on my dress since June, so I hope I still feel good about it when we get back to VA after our summer away and I try it on again.  (Fingers crossed!)  I did not spend my summer dieting and working out; I spent it having crackers and cheese at cocktail hour, out on the boat with my husband.  (It's been "the Summer of Us," remember?)  I've spent it enjoying delicious meals with him, sometimes followed by delicious desserts.  I don't want to regret anything about this summer, which has been as close to perfect as a summer can be; so I hope that when I see the pictures of the wedding, I don't stress out about the double chin that appears if I don't hold my head up high enough, or the cheeks that are so much rounder than I wish they were.  I hope that all I see is the joy of a mom who has watched the youngest of her five boys make the most important commitment he will ever make, having chosen a young lady who values her Faith as much as he does with whom to share his journey through life--and therefore, having followed in the footsteps of the four older brothers he admired so much growing up.

Anyhoo--

Would you like to see the dress?  (Side note: this is not me modeling it, although I certainly wish it was!)

Less than $60 on Amazon.  You can't beat that price!

I fashioned a special necklace to wear with my dress by taking apart a faux pearl necklace passed on to me by my mom when she had to sell her house and cull through her enormous collection of costume jewelry in order to downsize.  When I restrung the pearls, I added some sparkly beads and a Miraculous Medal in the center (because I like to wear this sacramental always, but I also like to wear pearls for significant Pearl occasions).

I recently bought some mousse (for the first time ever), a curling iron, and some hair spray, and I started experimenting, hoping to come up with a better way to wear my hair for the big occasion.  But in my 61 years of being a female on this planet, I have never mastered the art of hair styling.  So I've decided to just do the usual--straight hair held back with a headband--but I'm taking the advice of my baby sister and making the headband a blingy one.  I got a navy blue satin one and glued on a whole bunch of sparkly gems, and I think this headband will be just the touch of bling I need to add a little pizazz to my usual hair-do.

Wearing that medal around my neck, with a picture of the best Mother of all time on it, I hope to forget any hair or wardrobe cares and feel nothing but peace and happiness and joy throughout the festivities.  And I think that's just what I'm going to feel.

The Girls of Summer (and Their Baby Brother!)

Our oldest son and his wife, four daughters, and baby son arrived at the Pearl homestead in Upstate NY exactly a week ago, and we have been having a marvelous time.  The girls are amazed that this is the place where their Papa grew up--that he got to look out at that lake in his back yard every day, to swim whenever he wanted.  "This is the life!" one of the twins (who are eight, and the oldest of our 14 grandchildren) exclaimed, not long after they'd arrived.

Yes, indeed; this is the life.  It's like being on the best vacation ever, without ever having to leave the property--unless we want to walk all of two doors down to play at the private neighborhood beach, a wonderland of sand and waves and shallow waters filled with quick-darting minnows.

Here is a photo dump from the past week.  These pictures will tell the story better than I ever could.

In order to respect our firstborn son and his wife's wishes to keep their children's precious faces off the Interwebs, I have become adept (if I do say so myself!) at snapping pictures of them from the side or back.  I've always been a fan of such shots anyway; I consider these rather artsy poses to be just the sort of subject matter an oil painter might use as inspiration.

But whether with faces exposed or faces hidden, images of children digging in the sand at the beach or playing in the surf are pure artistic gold.  Here are some works by two of my favorite artists--Jesse Willcox Smith and Mary Cassatt--that illustrate my point perfectly.

The faces these talented artists created are as cute as can be, for sure; but they are not nearly as cute as those of my darling grandkids.  You're just going to have to trust me on this!

The Summer of Us! (A Photo Dump)

My husband and I have been in our old hometown in Upstate NY since the beginning of July, managing our Oyster Haven VRBO rental home, visiting with family and friends still living in the area...and having a grand old time, enjoying what we have dubbed "The Summer of Us" (and if you ever were a fan of the series Seinfeld, you might know where we got the inspiration for that title).

Fulfilling a lifelong dream of his, my hubby had splurged on his first real expensive "toy" in the spring: a 20-foot pontoon boat.  So life has been good here on Lake Champlain, dear readers; it has been very good indeed.   We miss our kids and grandkids down in VA, but we really, really like each other--so we are surviving.  Actually, we're thriving, and this has been a very special summer for us.

My better half was on vacation for the month of July, so it was almost hedonistically relaxing and rejuvenating for us.  (There was a big, wild-and-crazy Pearl family reunion over the 4th, and I never got around to blogging about that extravaganza.  But I put up a few posts about it over on Instagram.)

We went out on the boat every day that the weather permitted (which turned out to be just about every day); we had cocktail hour cruises routinely; we recited our daily Rosary and novena prayers while floating in the quiet waters on the shores of the nearby islands; and we even got up before the crack of dawn one day to watch the sun rise over the lake.

One day, we drove the boat about 45 minutes to my baby sister's lakeside home, and we picked her up along with her husband and my mom, then headed out on the water to enjoy a mini dinner cruise.

It has definitely been a summer to remember!  

I adore my all my boys and their wives, and don't even get me started on my grandchildren!  But this guy has always been and will always be my #1.  

The Summer of Us.  I will never forget it!

August brought us back to the real world a bit: my guy has already had to fly two trips this month--but luckily, his airline job allows him to commute from anywhere (within reason), and although I don't have the guts to take the big boat out by myself, I've kept the home fires burning here at the Pearl homestead.  I've even managed to get out for a couple of kayak rides.

Heaven, isn't it?

And now we're sharing it with some of our brood: as of almost a week ago, it is no longer just us.  Our oldest son, his wife, and his five children are here for about a two-week visit, staying with us in my husband's childhood home (because our Oyster Haven house is being rented right now).  Our boys' four girls, aged 4 through 8, are playing every day at the neighborhood beach two doors down where my husband and his siblings used to play.  It has been a joy to see them falling in love with this lake.  (One of the twins exclaimed one day, "This is the life!")

I want to share scenes of the goings-on here lately, but I've posted enough pictures for one day; so I'll be back with pictures from "The Summer of Us and Them."

A Sweet Little ABC Book Reader (and She's Not Even Related to Me!)

I was absolutely tickled--and touched--to receive an email from an old high school classmate, who sent me this picture of an adorable little reader flipping through her hardcover copy of My Little ABC Book.

This thoughtful woman (who was the salutatorian of our St. John's Class of 1976) wanted me to know that she had sent her not-quite-2-year-old grand-niece the book as a gift, and she congratulated me on finishing a project that had been near and dear to my heart for many years.

I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to see this sweet little angel-- "A is for angel," just like the book says! --looking as if she's enjoying the pictures.  It's truly a dream come true for me.  Before I ever had children, way back in the early 1980's, I mailed two different illustrated children's book ideas to a big-name publishing house, and I received some very kind rejection letters for my efforts.  (We're talking about rejection letters composed on an old-school typewriter--so yes, I am a dinosaur.)  It is so wonderful that in this day and age, self-publishing through online websites makes humble little books like this one available to the general public.  This ABC Book was going to be mostly for my own family; but through bookemon.com, anyone can purchase a copy (they are printed on demand when ordered).

If you'd like to preview the book on your computer or order a copy for your own little angel(s), click on this link.  There is also a tab on the sidebar on the right that will take you to the book's page on the website.

B is for blessed...G is for grateful...T is for thankful...

Well, you get the drift.  XO

Godfatherhood

On Sunday, my two sisters and I took my mom over to visit two of her oldest and dearest friends, whom we call "aunt" and "uncle" even though they aren't related to us by blood.  This wonderful couple lives less than an hour away from Mom; it's not a long trip, but when you don't drive anymore, it gets harder and harder to make non-essential outings like this happen.  Mom had met up for lunch with Aunt E recently, and in the wake of that happy reunion she kept mentioning how much she'd love to see Uncle J, who has suffered from poor health and is mostly wheelchair-bound now.  She hadn't seen him since my father's funeral more than two years ago, and she missed him. We decided that since he doesn't get out too much anymore, we wanted to get her over there to visit with him, and we are so glad we did!  What a wonderful time we had.

The Three Amigos.

Aunt E had a pitcher of iced tea and a plate of pound cake and cookies ready to serve us, and we all sat around their dining room table and reminisced.  They still live on the same plot of land that my sisters and I used to visit when we were kids, but their old farm house was destroyed by a fire years ago and they have since rebuilt and created an absolutely stunning new home, a cozy nest with just about the best in-home library and reading nook I've ever seen.  (#goals)  These sweet octogenarian "besties" talked about the "old days," and how as young parents, both couples had named each other as guardians for their children, if--God forbid--they had died before they'd had a chance to raise them.  They talked and laughed about their grand plan to live on a boat together after retirement and travel the world.  That dream, sadly but not surprisingly, didn't come to fruition.  But they stayed close through the decades.

I wished so much that my father could have been at the table with us, guffawing in his inimitable way.  He just loved Uncle J, who was like the brother he never had.  The two of them grew up together.  They (along with Uncle J's brother, Uncle D) attended the same small town high school in Upstate NY.  Uncle J settled into adult life not far from where they'd grown up, but my parents started out their married life far away from the North Country.  Our family lived for a number of years in NJ and Delaware, until I was about 8.  That's when we returned to the same small NY town where Dad and Uncle J had spent their boyhood together and the old friends were practically neighbors again.  Less than two years later, however, we left my dad's beloved old hometown, but only to move about 45 minutes away.  Fear not, my parents always kept their ties with Aunt E and Uncle J, and the four of them got together frequently.

When I was a young teen, I had a few overnights, all by myself, at Aunt E and Uncle J's home, trying to determine if I would like to spend part of my summer living with them as a "mother's helper."  They had these adorable young children...but I was a shy and timid sort of girl, and I worried about getting homesick.  So I didn't do it.  At our little get-together Sunday, I reminded them about this.  And I said, "It's kind of late for an apology--but I'm so sorry I couldn't do it!"

Did I mention that Uncle J is my godfather?  I am one lucky girl, let me tell you.  I never knew my godmother, a woman with whom my mother was great friends in her youth, but whose friendship didn't survive the years.  I only heard from my godmother once that I can recall, when she sent me a necklace as a present for my 16th or 18th birthday--I can't remember which.  But I totally won the godfather lottery.  Uncle J is a brilliant lawyer known far and wide in the small towns of the North Country.  He's honorable and kind, and his sense of humor is unmatched: he's one of those proverbial  Irish storytellers who delivers his jokes with a gravelly voice and a twinkle in his eye.  His body has gotten weaker, but his mind is as sharp as ever and I could listen to him talk all day.

All of these traits make Uncle J very lovable.  But here is what happened on Sunday that made me realize just how fortunate I am that my parents named him as my spiritual sponsor for this sometimes difficult journey called life. I told my sister that I wanted a picture with my godfather; and then I told Aunt E that since I never got a chance to know the one I'd been given, I was adopting her as my godmother--so she needed to be in the picture, too.  Aunt E and I sat down in chairs on either side of Uncle J's wheelchair.  As my sister was getting ready to take the shot (or maybe it was after the pictures had been taken, I can't quite recall), Uncle J looked at me and asked, "Do you still go to church?"  "Yes!" I answered.  "I do."  He said simply, "Good."  Then I continued, "And so do our boys.  They've even gone on Catholic Match to find girls who share their Faith..." I didn't want to babble on and on, which I could have; so I just kind of thanked him by saying, "If you've been praying for me, I'm sure that helped!"  I asked him if he went to the parish we used to go to during those two years we lived in my dad's old hometown, but he said, no, there was a church closer to where he and Aunt E live.  And that was about it.

It was a short conversation, with just a few simple words--"Do you still go to church?"  "Yes." "Good."--employed to convey something so much bigger.  Simple words, yet profound ones.  I think Uncle J was wondering if his godfatherhood (is that a word?) had been successful.  It meant the world to me, I'll tell you.  I will never forget how he made me feel during that visit.

It made the saying goodbye part very hard, and I was choked up with tears.  I've rarely seen Uncle J during my adult life, as my husband and I settled for many years in NH, and have since moved to VA to be near our grown married children.  But we are now spending the summer months in Upstate NY every year (managing our Oyster Haven vacation rental and catching up with extended family in the area), and we're just a stone's throw from where my godfather and adopted godmother live; so I'm going to make it a point to see them as often as I can.  Also, every day when we pray our Rosary, my husband and I recite a special intention for our godchildren; from now on, we will add one for our godparents--living and deceased--as well!

God has been so, so good to me.  Sunday's reminder that I have, and have always had, Uncle J (the best godfather!) in my corner is one more blessing for which I shall be eternally grateful.