Just Over Here Bragging about My Baby

On Monday of this week, my husband and I returned from a week-long road trip to TN to visit our youngest son, his wife, and his two adorable little daughters (aged just-turned-one and about-to-turn-three).  So of course the youngest of our five boys--our baby--is very much on my mind right now.  How I wish he lived closer to us so that we could see him and his family on a regular basis!  Saying goodbye after a visit really stabs at my poor heart.  (This of course goes for his oldest brother, too, our firstborn, who's a two-day trip away in WI; but today, at least, this post is dedicated to son #5.) I am well aware that a mother's heart can be much more violently pierced by suffering than mine has ever been, God having thus far spared me any truly heartrending tragedies; but still, it pains me to have two of our boys living so far away from us.  My husband and I cherish every minute we get to spend with them.

I adore this boy of ours.  He was born an "old soul," in ways, and spent much of his childhood wanting to catch up to his older brothers.  We had our first four boys in a span of four years and three months; then just about exactly five years after son #4 was born, our youngest joined the team.  There was a bigger gap between sons #4 and #5 than there was between #1 and #4!  And that gap must have seemed far too wide to son #5 for many years, because those older brothers were his heroes, and he wanted to follow directly in their footsteps.  He wanted to be counted as one of the "big guys."

Well, that long-awaited day did come, that's for sure. I told you that he was five years younger than his next oldest brother; well, he got married five years after that brother did.  They were both 26 years old on their wedding days.  Do you see a pattern here?

And now, like the brothers he always looked up to and admired, our baby is also a father; and like them, he has embraced this role whole-heartedly.  It was a delight to watch him interacting with his little blond angels last week, snuggling them, reading them stories, and tossing them on the bed in a game which his father used to call "Sack of Potatoes" but which in their household is known as "1-2-3!"

Our baby with his babies.

These kids, these two young parents, are in a phase of life that's challenging and difficult, trying to manage a lot of moving pieces at once.  Our son is working hard to make his freelance business a success, and his helpmate works as an accountant from home (mostly) while the girls are at a sitter's house nearby.  We were happy to be able to take care of our two darling granddaughters while Mommy and Daddy were working from Monday through Friday, and we enjoyed daily outings with them--to the park, to the Discovery Center, and to the zoo (twice!).  It was a tiring week for Papa and Grammy, but in the best possible way.  And we know how much our son and his wife appreciated having us around.

The almost-three-year-old kept randomly telling us, "I'm glad you're here."  We were glad we were there, too.  Very, very glad.

Since we've been home, I've been doing a little bit of organizing in our office.  I am a collector of photos and paperwork, a scrapbooker, an archivist of memories who has an enormous amount of trouble throwing away anything with the least bit of sentimental value.  I realize that when I die, my poor children are going to have to wade through all of my boxes, storage bins, and trunks of memorabilia, and they are going to wish I'd culled through it all while I was still here.  I get these urges to stop hanging onto the past and just start throwing things out, finally. But then I come across some of the old letters I've kept, or the emails I've printed out and put into plastic pages in three-ring binders for safekeeping...and I realize that my kids will probably be stuck with the task of doing the culling after all, because I just can't do it yet!

For instance, here is a treasured email that I received way back in 2016, from someone who worked for a Catholic publishing company. At the time, I was still a pretty regular blogger and often posted book reviews at String of Pearls. The young gal who sent it had found my name as a possible book reviewer in a random search, but then after doing some digging was amazed to realize that she'd been on a date with my youngest son, when she was a junior at St. Mary's College out in South Bend and he was a senior at Notre Dame.  The world is so much smaller than we realize!  I've made some redactions for privacy's sake, but I thought I'd share the first page of this email here today.  Partly because of the way this girl speaks about my son (it brings a tear to my eyes, all over again!); and partly because it's a testament to the fact that we all touch the lives of others in the course of an average day in ways that we might never be aware of (and therefore, imagine how many souls might be affected by our interactions over the course of an entire lifetime!).

She went on to offer the opportunity to review one of her company's titles and gave me a list of choices, etc. It was all business after that touching paragraph that involved my boy.

I will always be so grateful for the random Google search that led to this beautiful, unexpected message, one that moved me profoundly.  If this girl hadn't emailed me to request a book review, I would never have even known that she'd gone on a date with my son. I never heard anything about this date from him. (Moms of boys, you know how good they are at giving all the deets.  NOT!)  So I treasure this small peek into my son’s story.  I feel privileged to have knowledge of it--to hear that the kind and respectful way he treated this girl (whom I will never meet in this lifetime, I'm sure) on their one and only date made a huge impression on her and changed her life for the better.

And that boy who was about to graduate from Notre Dame in 2015 is now a married father of two little girls.  When they grow up, they will know what to look for in a husband, because they will have their dad as a model: "a Godly and genuine young [man]...seeking truth."

Yes, dear girl, I AM a proud mama.

I always have been, and I always will be.  

#ihavethebestboys  #itsjustthetruth  Does that sound like I’m bragging?  I suppose I am, dear readers.  

P.S.  In my last post, I showed you a little birthday gift that I was working on for my granddaughter.  I believe it was a success, if this picture of her playing with it is any indication. 

Until next time, God bless you and yours!

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.

Happy Mother’s Day to My Five Favorite Girls

I am a boy mom.

A very happy, totally fulfilled boy mom.

God gave me five sons, no daughters, and I can say with complete honesty that I never felt I was missing a thing.  I've blogged about this topic numerous times over the last decade-plus (it's one of my favorite subjects, I guess), but I'll just bother you with one link, to this old post  (if anyone reading this one thinks it isn't long enough already and wants some bonus reading!).

I adored my boys, and I thought that having a houseful of them was a unique privilege and honor (not to mention very high on fun and very low on emotional drama!).

I was not one of those mothers who looked at her toddler-aged old boy, filled with angst, and worried, "Someday, another woman will become #1 in his heart.  He'll get married and I'll lose him."  I'm so thankful that that's not the way my brain was wired.  (And I do tend to be a worrier; so I'm very grateful that I was not plagued with those particular sorts of anxieties about the future.)  I just enjoyed my passel of boys at all of the various stages of their babyhoods and childhoods and young adulthoods (even the teen years, which don't have to be a nightmare--so don't let anyone make you believe, and even assume, that will be the case!).  I loved having them all living under our roof, but I knew they would eventually grow up and leave me. And I knew that I would no longer be the #1 woman in their lives, once they got married and their wives took that spot.

BUT!  (And this is a big but, and I cannot lie...)  #sorryaboutthat  #acomedianiamnot

Moms of boys: be not afraid of the girls who will supposedly “take your boys away from you”—it doesn’t have to be like that!  If you've raised them right, in a loving, stable household with your strong marriage as a model, chances are good that you're going to love and approve wholeheartedly of the girls they choose.

Trust that they will choose well.  Support their choices.  Think of those girls as true daughters.  And if you’re as lucky as I am, you won’t even have to try very hard to think of them that way.

I should have said up there at the beginning that I was a boy mom.  Because now I have five girls, too.  And I can no longer imagine what our family would be like without them.

Our five sons and five daughters.  (And one photo-bombing grandson.)

I was just about to share a link back to another ancient post in my archives, one written in 2013 after the birth of our oldest son's third daughter (the first two were twins, born less than two years earlier).  But if you want to skip reading the whole thing, I’ll retell the part that ties in with this post today:  

My husband and I were still living in NH at the time; we'd flown out to CO to help with the twins while our son and his wife were in the hospital with the new baby, and then we stayed on for about a week after they got home.  On the last night of our stay, our daughter-in-law Regina's mom flew in to help out for the week following our departure, so we overlapped for one night before our flight out the next morning. 

Although I have always had a wonderful relationship with Regina, and I knew how grateful she was that my husband and I had come out to help, when her mom arrived, I was struck by the strength of that beautiful mother-daughter bond between them.  How precious that relationship is, especially when a daughter has become a mother herself.  When I went to bed that night, I was plagued by the thought that in some ways,  I had become a bit irrelevant.  I was no longer the most important woman in my son's life; that woman was now his wife--which is absolutely as it should be, and I'd be concerned if that wasn't the case!  And the most important woman in my daughter-in-law's life was, of course, her own mother.  So where did that leave me?

I felt weepy as I got ready for bed that night.

Well, I think Regina must have been a mind reader or something, aware of my need for some sign--some words of affirmation, perhaps--proving that I still had an important role to play in the lives of our children.  On the way to the airport, our son drove and my husband sat up front with him, while I was in the back seat (still brooding about becoming irrelevant).  With no fanfare ("Oh yeah, Regina said to give you this"), my boy handed a little gift bag back to me.  What was this? 

Inside the tissue paper I found a small rustic wooden sign with these words painted on it: FIRST MY MOTHER-IN-LAW, NOW ALSO MY FRIEND.   Well, dear readers...if I said there weren't any tears over that unexpected gift, I would be lying.

And there have been many more happy tears shed in the ensuing years, brought on by the sweet words and gestures of not only Regina, but the four other girls who eventually joined our family.  These amazing gals have all become dear friends and so much more.  They are outstanding wives to our sons and devoted mothers to our 22 precious grandchildren.  They visit us often and generously share their children with us.  They make it very clear that it is important to them that their kids' grandparents are a big part of their lives.  They seem to really like us!  (And if not, they are great actresses!)  Truly, we are inordinately blessed in this regard.

My daughters-in-law text me often (more often than my boys do, to be honest--ha, ha!  Are you surprised?).  If a day goes by and I haven’t heard from at least one or two of them, I get a bit worried (and I miss them!)--that's how often we're in touch.  Most of the time, it’s just random chit-chat, family news, and information sharing; but sometimes, the words are profoundly moving.

Here are snippets from just a few of the texts I've gotten over the years; they warmed my heart so much that I felt the need to screenshot them for safekeeping.  (I used to keep special letters I'd received in the mail stored away in a shoe box...I think of these texts as letters, 21st-century-style!  And I'm storing them here at the blog. )

If you don't come here often: we moved to from NH to VA in 2017
in order to live close to three of our five boys.

After the birth of a new grandchild, we don't need thanks from our girls.
We want to thank THEM, for wanting us to come and meet the baby ASAP!

How blessed am I?!  These girls make me feel so loved and appreciated.  Relevant, even!  (Ha ha!)

I was just getting ready to wrap this post up when another sweet text from one of our daughters-in-law popped up on our family stream.

I didn't "lose" my boys; I gained five girls.  And just like with our sons, they're all favorites.  It's a five-way tie.

Happy Mother's Day to the best daughters-in-law a boy mom could ever ask for.  I thank God for you every day!  XO XO XO XO XO

Letting Go (and Dinner for Two)

It's been two months since I posted anything here.  2011 me doesn't even recognize 2024 me!  When this blog was in its infancy, I used to get up pretty much every morning raring to sit down at my laptop and write.  

In March of 2011, when I first decided to dip my toes into the unfamiliar waters of the blogosphere, my life was about to change drastically: my youngest son was getting ready to graduate from high school that June and head off to college after the summer; and my oldest son was three months away from becoming a first-time father to twin girls, making me a first-time Grammy.  I was not technically an empty-nester yet, but I was getting close.  And suddenly, I had more free time than I'd ever had before--so for several years, I blogged almost daily.  But then as, one by one, new daughters were added to our family, and traveling to visit our ever-expanding brood took up so much of our energy, my blog output started to decrease quite a bit.  I loved writing about my family and my life, but I became too busy living it to blog about it as often as I used to do.

In 2017, my husband and I moved away from our "forever home" in New Hampshire, where we had raised our boys, to Virginia, where three of them had settled with their growing families.  So much has changed in the intervening years.  Today, I have five married sons and 22 grandchildren.  Two of our boys live too far away, one in Wisconsin and one in Tennessee; but we feel pretty blessed to have three of them living less than an hour's drive from us.  Life is gloriously busy down here.  We live in a smaller house, with a smaller yard, but I have grown to love our new VA home every bit as much as the NH one we tearfully left behind seven years ago.

As difficult as it was at the time, that move was good for me.  I'd already started having to learn to accept change, to practice detachment, because by then all five of our boys were grown and gone and living their adult lives.  Even our baby was an Army officer stationed in Germany when we made our big move south.  For a person who gets very attached to the things--and the people--she loves, leaving that well-loved house, with all its happy memories, was one of the toughest things I've ever done.  But ultimately, it made my life better!  The blessings we have reaped by living close to so many of our kids and grandkids are countless.  Our 2017 move was one of the best decisions we ever made. 

Just yesterday, I was reading a January 2024 blog post by Elizabeth Foss, and as usual, her writing spoke to me.  Loudly.  She included a quote by Corrie ten Boom (a WWII concentration camp survivor, who'd risked her own life to hide Jews), and when I read it, I knew that God meant for me to see it. "Hold loosely to the things of this life so that if God requires them of you, it will be easy to let them go." And when ten Boom said, "things," she wasn't only talking about material things; she elaborated, "Even your dear family.  Why?  Because the Father may wish to take one of them back to himself, and when he does, it will hurt you if he must pry your fingers loose."

Whoah.  Did I ever need to read those words, to be reminded of the fleeting nature of this life on earth and the need to let go of things, and even of people when the time comes.  It's so easy to say, "Of course!  Yes!  I'm a devout Catholic and I know that this life is short and filled with suffering, and it's the next one, the eternal one with God in Heaven, that matters."  And yet, things here matter to the human heart.  And people; oh, how they matter!  It seems that mothers' hearts break on a daily basis.  Just having a child grow up, leave home, and start his adult life somewhere far from you can do it--even though that's the goal: giving your children wings and then watching them fly away.

I loved it when all of our boys were little, living under our roof.  I loved it when they were gathered around our table for every meal.  I think I'm in need of a short trip down Memory Lane, so bear with me while I share some pictures of those good old days.  (And also, if you're a young mom, remind yourself how lucky you are to have the awesome digital photography of the 21st century always at your fingertips, instead of the grainy, poorly lighted snapshots moms my age have of our kids--ones we had to wait a couple of weeks to see, not even knowing how they'd turned out!)

Those boys: they are my life!  Hang on a minute...I need a tissue.

Okay, I'm back.  

Listen, the last thing I want to do is sound all maudlin and "woe is me."  I'm just feeling nostalgic is all.   And the years seem to be going by too quickly for me these days, the changes coming at me rapid-fire.   At 65, I know that the road of life behind me is much longer than the one ahead, and it makes me think about all the things I love in this world.  

But I would be lying if I said that feeding a passel of little boys was always a complete joy.  We had two in particular who were mighty picky eaters.  When they used to ask, "What's for dinner?", I would put them off with, "I don't know..." or "I don't want to talk about it right now..."  If we ever got through a healthy home-cooked dinner with clean plates and no complaining, I used to feel like I was on a high.  They all loved my baking, so dessert was usually successful; but the main dish was hit-or-miss with some of them.  I wasn't the greatest cook, to be honest (it's hard to get excited to cook when you're not sure people will eat what you make).  I could whip up basic "comfort foods," like beef stew, lasagna, shepherd's pie.  But I wasn't very adventurous with my cooking.

That's one nice part about being an old lady like me: you miss your kids being gathered around your table (picky eaters notwithstanding); but if you made the right choice in a husband, and he's your favorite person to hang out with, dinner for two can really be a joy.  And it's fun to try new delicious dishes together.

This past week, my husband and I had two meals in a row that I thought were so yummy, simple but elegant--and I would never have made them to serve our boys when they were little.  We ate these meals on trays in the family room while we watched Matt Walsh's show together, pushing pause every now and then to chat.  I thought my plate looked so appetizing both nights that I snapped pictures.  And now I'm going to share them--lucky you!

On Monday, we had baked potatoes and roasted prosciutto-wrapped asparagus (with parmesan cheese and bits of French fried onions on top).  It was so good!

On Tuesday, we had filet mignon, cooked by my husband on the grill and topped with sautéed mushrooms, and green salads (his was a bit more elaborate than mine).  I also had some plain yogurt with fruit and granola, in lieu of dessert. Because it's Lent.  (I know some of you probably think I cheated because that sounds like a dessert; but in my book, if it doesn't include chocolate or caramel or icing, and it isn't a cookie or a brownie or a cake, it is most definitely not a dessert.)

There is so much to let go of as you get older.  But there is also much to look forward to.  Every night that my husband and I are at home eating our dinner together, it feels like a date.  That's not too bad a way to live, is it?  Sure, sometimes we miss those bygone years when we always had our boys with us, when we saw them every single day; but they are all thriving at the moment, praise God.  And we are so, SO happy to have each other.

Full disclosure: I took those Corrie ten Boom quotes to heart, and I want to live my life holding onto things loosely; but when it comes to my husband, my grip is probably a bit too tight.  I'll be working on that, but I can't promise I'll get good at it!  In the meantime, I hope there are lots of dinner dates in our future.

Six Little Sailors (and My Five Babies)

The second-born of our five sons now has five sons of his own.  His youngest (our 21st grandchild) was born this past June.

He and his wife Ginger also have a little girl in Heaven.  At 16 weeks gestation, Saint Monica Mary Pearl went home to God on August 27, 2019.

But here on earth, they have five boys, just like we do.

Our boys didn't have extensive wardrobes, and there weren't a lot of clothing items worth hanging onto after they grew out of babyhood; but I did keep a little blue sailor suit (circa 1985, size 3-6 months) and a bigger white sailor suit (circa 1983/84, size 2T).  All five of our boys had professional pictures taken in the white one between one and two years of age.  But only two of them (#2 and #3) had photos taken in the little blue one.  I know I didn't have it yet when it would have fit my firstborn, and son #2 was the first one to wear it.  I'm not sure, though, why I never got photos of #4 and #5 wearing it.  (They were my biggest, both over 10 pounds at birth, so I wonder if they just grew out of it before I thought to put them in it?)

I'm sentimental about those vintage sailor suits.  And so is my daughter-in-law Ginger.  She has had all five of their boys photographed in the blue sailor suit that their daddy once wore, and four out of the five in the white one (I'm sure the little guy will have his picture taken in it, too, when he gets old enough!).  Yesterday, she texted us this collage with our boy (top row, middle) and his five boys all wearing the same little sailor suit.

This is why I hold onto things!!  Isn't that collage just priceless?

Looking at it makes me nostalgic for the days when I was the mom of sweet baby boys.

Oh yeah, that's right: I still am.  They'll always be my babies.  They are still sweet, they are still just the cutest, and I love them so much.  They're all my favorites.  

On that note,  I'm going to show you another collage--one that I made about seven years ago.  It illustrates my point, about the cuteness.

Son #2 has joked that maybe they'll "beat" us and end up with 6 boys.  I say go for it!  I had an enlargement made of that collage of sailor suit babies, and it's already hanging up on the wall; but I will be more than happy to update it, if the need arises!

A Beautiful Mother's Day and a Beautiful Life!

I am late with my Mother's Day post, but that's about par for the course for me these days!

We had such a special celebration last Sunday, because our oldest grandson, G-Man (who is the oldest of son #3's five offspring), made his First Holy Communion that day.  What could be better than spending Mother's Day seeing one of your precious children's children receive the Holy Eucharist for the first time ever?  It was beautiful.

This grandson of ours will always occupy a special place in my heart because of the four-and-a-half months we lived with him and his parents when he was a baby.  We were still living in NH at the time, and my husband was still working as an airline pilot.  So he commuted to work while I played the part of full-time nanny, so that our son and his wife didn't have to put the little guy into day care.  Our daughter-in-law had completed her three-month maternity leave from her job at UVA, and there was about a four-month stretch until the end of the school year.  She had decided that when that semester ended, she was going to quit her job and stay at home with the little guy.  We filled in that gap and it was a very special time for us--and of course, G-Man was often the star of my blog posts in those days, as you can see here.  

Oh my, reading over that old post has made me misty-eyed.  And also amazed at how surprising life can be, and how beautiful.  Two years after that post was written, we had moved away from NH and become Virginians--which we never would have imagined doing at that point.  (Best move ever: with three sons living close-by, we are no longer constantly in travel mode.)  G-Man has a little brother now who's just a bit older than he was in those old photos.  And he's often riding on my left hip and staring at my face, just like his big brother was in those photos from 2015.  Oh my goodness, it's like deja vu (all over again. Ha ha!).

After Mass, we went over to G-Man's house for a brunch with lots of beloved people: G-Man, his parents, his four siblings, and his maternal grandmother; son #4, his wife, and their four kids; and one of our boys' cousins (named after yours truly!), who lives in the area and has two delightful daughters.

We got a picture of G-Man with his grandfather (my guy, whom he calls Papa), his godfather (his uncle, our son #4), and his father.  All of his earthly fathers looking out for him, body and soul.

So that was Mother's Day, one for the ages.  

If you come here often you know that ever since we moved down to VA, the boys who live nearby come over to have a special Mother's Day dinner with my husband and me, without spouses or kids--so that we can relive the old days when they were just mama's boys.  (The gift of time spent together, which is my #1 love language.)  It's usually not on actual Mother's Day, because we want them to spend that with their deserving wives.  I've written about this tradition before.  Here's last year's post, which included a big surprise for me. 

Oh no, not again.  An old blog post, making me misty-eyed! 

Anyway, I usually only get three or four of my five boys at once, but I'll take whatever I can get!  I am so grateful for this tradition.  I didn't think it was going to happen this year, because everyone is so very busy with their kids' school and after-school activities, work, and other commitments.  I had said that we should skip it this year, and that our wonderful celebration for G-Man's First Communion was enough of a Mother's Day treat for me.  

But those boys...the Tuesday after Mother's Day, our VA sons (all three of whom live between 40 and 50 minutes from our front door) came anyway.  And we had steaks and baked potatoes, with cheesecake for dessert.  And we talked about the two brothers who were missing, so that it was almost as if they were there, too.  And we laughed. And it was wonderful.

I have the best sons.  Just sayin'.

I tell you what, I'll always be glad that I have this blog. It's keeping memories alive for me.  As the years pass, things tend to get blurry.  But all I have to do to remember exactly what I was doing and thinking and feeling during some moment in my life is to click on an old post buried in my archives, and I'm transported back in time.  It's a gift, this blogging thing.  I don't do it as much as I used to, but I don't think I can ever give it up completely.  I'll be 65 this summer; my memories are only going to get fuzzier with age.  I'm going to need to read the story of my life, and luckily, I'll know where to find it.

Deep thoughts about blogging.  Yikes, that's enough of that for today. 

A belated Happy Mother's Day, dear readers.  God bless you!