Okay...Maybe Not QUITE Paradise

In my last post, titled "Paradise," I regaled you with tales about our idyllic week-long lake vacation with our children and grandchildren at our Oyster Haven Vrbo rental house, and not one word that I wrote was a lie.  It was an amazing week, full of love and laughter, almost too good to be true.  Almost, but not quite.  I mean, as far as how things tend to go in the real world down here on planet earth (which can never truly be Paradise, but can in fact more adequately be described as the promised "Valley of Tears"), it was indeed a fairly magical and joy-filled week for the Pearl family. However, I did leave out a few details…

...there was one unfortunate freak accident that I didn't mention in that post, and it led to a two-night hospital stay for our #4 son.  I can imagine your wrinkled brow and the look of horror on your face, so please be assured that although it was quite scary there for a bit, our boy ended up being fine and his vacation week wasn't completely ruined.  (And throughout the ordeal, he kept saying that he was so glad that it happened to him and not one of the children.)

Okay, maybe I should go ahead and tell the whole story.

People started arriving for our Pearl-a-palooza on Saturday, July 19 and by Sunday, all the weary travelers had made it to the lake house.  All 35 of us were together, looking forward to a week of fun in the sun at our private sandy beach in our cozy private cove.  Then on Monday, while his kids were having a ball swimming and kayaking with their cousins, son #4 started wading out in waist-deep water to join them. As he was walking along, his thigh got poked by the razor-sharp branch of a log that must have drifted in from the nearby island during a windy spring storm or something (because we'd never seen this log before, during previous summers).  Right away, our son knew that he was going to need medical attention.  The puncture wound, while rather small, was extremely deep.  So deep that he could see the different layers of tissue inside.  He and his wife took off for the urgent care facility, where he was stitched up and told to watch for signs of infection.

Before long, the skin around the wound started to get pink and swollen and hot.  Our son and his wife contacted several nurse friends for advice, and one of them was surprised that the urgent care doc had opted to stitch it up. She told them to keep an eye on the reddened area, and to go back in if it started to grow.  They wisely drew a line all around the infected area with a black Sharpie marker, so that they could see if the redness was spreading.  By Tuesday, they knew there was a problem because the infection was creeping well past the circle they'd drawn, and they went back to urgent care.  The stitches were removed, and an antibiotic was prescribed. But by Wednesday, it was obvious that the medication wasn't knocking out the infection.  So they headed to the ER, and our son was admitted and put on IV antibiotics.  He ended up having to stay Wednesday and Thursday nights; and with the infection finally under control, he came home on Friday--which happened to be my birthday.  It was the best birthday present I've ever gotten, getting him back that day.

Through this whole ordeal, he never did run a fever.  He never got septic. He was well taken care of at the hospital.   But that dangerous-looking red area on his thigh haunted me until it finally began to fade and go away and he was back with us, safe and sound.

When I went to the hospital on Wednesday night to visit my boy, I had to take turns with his wife because they hadn't gotten a room for him yet and only one visitor at a time was allowed in the ER. After I got to see him and came out so that she could go in, I was just a blubbering mess, sitting there in the waiting room with tears streaming down my face. I let myself imagine all the what-ifs and was sick at the thought that this simple injury could become catastrophic.  Seeing how large the red area had grown, even after he’d received the first infusion of antibiotics, kind of terrified me, because I know that sometimes an uncontrolled infection can spell amputation and even in the worst cases, death.  I shed many tears (in private, so that our son's four kids and all of their cousins wouldn't see how worried Grammy was) and said a lot of prayers over those days that he was in the hospital.  But thanks be to God, the antibiotics worked and he came home to us in one piece.  

Our son had to keep his wound dry for the rest of the week in NY, so there was no more going in the lake for him, which was a bummer.  Even though his vacation was less than perfect, however, his boss gave him a few extra days off to make up for the ones he'd missed, and he did get to enjoy about four days post-hospital going for boat rides, watching his kids get tube rides behind the boat, and hanging out with the family and making us laugh, as always.  This son is an extremely funny person.  He has a knack for quietly delivering quick off-hand remarks worded in such a way that they totally hit the funny bone.  When he was in the hospital, his room was on a floor where most of the patients were geriatric.  One nurse came in to take his vitals and told him that they were just great, the best she'd seen in a long time (remember, she was dealing with mostly elderly people, not young bucks like him).  My son, without missing a beat, replied, "I'm known for my vitals."  (He might have added something like, "They're my best feature," but since I don't blog regularly now, it's been so long since it happened that some of the details have gotten fuzzy!) I wasn't there, but my sister--the one with whom my mom lived for seven years--was visiting him at the time and witnessed this humorous exchange, and she said the nurse just loved him.

But I say, who wouldn't?!

He knew his situation could turn serious, but he stayed calm throughout and never lost his sense of humor.  He even weighed in on a funny conversation he heard that his brothers and their wives had been having back at the lake house, about being a nighttime shower person versus a morning shower person.  (It was loud and heated and pretty hilarious.  We are a family of strong opinions!) He said, "If I don't make it, tell [the sister-in-law who insists that not showering before going to bed is unthinkable] that I say not showering in the morning is gross."  The fact that he could joke about not making it...I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

Not too long before our vacation week, that same sister who visited him had told me about a local girl up here who'd had a similar incident: she got a cut that caused some weird raging infection.  But hers ended up going septic, and this poor gal ended up losing her leg.  She was just a teen, a young athlete who had to deal with a devastating blow like that.  The fact that my son completely recovered from his injury seems practically miraculous to me, when I think of how many families have outcomes that are so very different.  God has been very good to the Pearls, and a day doesn't go by that I don't humbly thank Him for all the blessings He's bestowed on us.  I am so incredibly grateful, for son #4's health and for so many other things.

So good to have him back--it just wasn't the same without him!

A hug for Daddy.

I'd love to know what he's saying here.  I would probably be laughing.

Enjoying my birthday present!

At least he got to do some of this!

We look forward to a do-over for son #4 next summer. And before anyone even thinks about going swimming, we'll all be policing the beach area to make sure there are no hidden dangers lurking in the water--like that rassa-frassin' log!  (Excuse my language!)

Until next time...be safe out there, dear readers!

The Many Blessings of Our Life in VA

I have gotten to the point where I can't imagine not having made our big move to VA.  Back in 2016, when we were celebrating our last Christmas in the NH house where we'd raised our boys, it was somewhat heartbreaking imagining a different sort of home.  How could we be as happy anywhere else?  How could another house ever mean the same to us?  After all, we'd been in that one for 26 years and we'd put so much sweat equity (and love) into making it just right for us.  It was filled with wonderful memories.

But when we moved in early 2017, we knew that eventually, we would make many new memories down here.  And that this would become our home.

Well, that definitely happened.  Hoo boy, did it happen! I can no longer imagine what our life would be like if we didn't live here, near three of our five sons and their families.  Just this past week, look at all we would have missed.

On Tuesday, we went to the kindergarten graduation of four of our grandchildren.  Son #3's daughter (the middle child of his five) and son #4's triplets (two boys and a girl) had their end-of-year ceremony at their Catholic grade school, and my husband and I were there in attendance.

The kids were adorable, needless to say.  But I thought MY kids (the doting dads taking videos of their kids singing) were equally adorable.

Two of the triplets were classmates this past year (one of the boys and the girl); and one of the triplet boys was his cousin's classmate.  He excitedly pointed at her once, at pick-up time, and told his mom, "That's [her name]! I know her from school!"  True story.  They've been playmates and practically neighbors since infancy. Hilarious.

Classmates/cousins.

The Kindergarten Crew.

If we still lived in NH, I doubt we would have flown down for this occasion.  We would probably save those sorts of travels for major events, like First Holy Communions.  But being here, we can easily attend all the grandkids' special events, big and small.

Two days after the graduation, my husband and I started some home improvement projects for son #4 and his wife Braveheart.  They just bought a new house, and before they move their things in, they wanted to get some painting done.  My husband even got up on some super-high and quite terrifying scaffolding (while I took care of some things down low, where I could keep my feet firmly planted on terra firma.  #fearofheights).

Braveheart came by with all the kids while we were working, and I got this selfie with the youngest of their four (who calls herself an "honorary triplet").  People say she looks like me...but I'm not sure.  She does definitely look like her daddy at that age.

It's such a joy to see our boys living near enough to each other to be an integral part of each other's lives.

Son #3's hard-working wife Preciosa was the real estate agent who found this dream house for son #4's family and helped them negotiate the deal.  And she and son #3 decided to give son #4's family a generous housewarming gift: a trampoline for their awesome new back yard.  Because we live nearby, my husband was able to help his boy assemble it on Wednesday, and he and I were able to be there when the kids first discovered this amazing surprise gift from their aunt and uncle the next day.

I love this big-hearted boy.  And his dad.

Last night, after an exhausting day of painting, my best guy and I came home to our little VA doll house (although smaller than our NH house, it's really not all that small; but it's a sweet little place and I often think of it in those terms) and headed out to the patio on the side of our house.  We sat together on one of the bench gliders by the fire pit, sipping cocktails.  (You can have a date at your own house!  It's relaxing...and cheaper than going out!) We were sitting there talking about how as long as we were together, we could live pretty much anywhere; and how great it was that we could live here, where we can help some of our boys out and enjoy lots of time with them and their families. (We'd like to have all five living nearby; but we'll take what we can get!)

Today, I'm going to watch son #4's kiddos, so he and Braveheart can get a lot of packing done at their old house.  Again, this is something I probably wouldn't have been able to do if we hadn't made our big move.

Leaving that NH house was quite painful at first, and a real exercise in detachment from the things of this world; but we have been so extraordinarily blessed since the move.  Life is so good here.  

I give Mary, and the daily Rosaries we say to Her, all the credit.

  

Thank you, Mother!

Have a wonderful weekend, dear readers!

Some Exciting "E" Stuff (Such as Easter, Eggs, the Eclipse, Etc.)

Hi there!  The last time I was here, it was Holy Saturday and I was preparing for a lovely, relatively quiet Easter celebration with son #4, his wife, his four young children, and his mother- and father-in-law.  Well, I'm back to report that we had such a blessed day.  The weather was glorious for our after-lunch Easter egg hunt and the kids played happily in the yard for hours.  We are always up for the big, wild-and-crazy celebrations with everyone who lives down here (and sometimes even the ones who don't, but travel to join us); but this more subdued, gentler version of family fun was a special treat, and we had such a wonderful time.

My darling D-I-L Braveheart and I didn't plan on twinning for Easter, but when she arrived we realized that we were wearing very similar Sunday Best finery.  The floral patterns and styles of our dresses were different, but the color palette was the same, as was the general soft flouncy-ness of the fabric (I think I just made up a word!).  We figured a picture was called for.

We all ate in the dining room, and the meal was simple but tasty.

My hubby and I long ago decided that roasted pork (seared and then slowly cooked in a proverbial vat of butter) is always a winner.  A large pork loin gives you the most bang for your buck; it can feed a small army and tastes like heaven.  On Easter, it didn’t disappoint.

I can just hear you thinking, "Did she actually share a picture of her not particularly beautiful-looking plate of food?"  Yes, yes I did!  

I said that it was a quieter Easter than usual, and it was.  But son #3 and his brood stopped by after Mass, on their way to Preciosa's college friend's house, where they were going to meet up with son #2 and his gang.  (This was before we sat down for our meal.)  Our house happened to be on their way, and they had a bit of time to kill before they were expected at their friend's gathering.  So for a little while, we had nine cousins playing together, which was fun.

Cute (while hastily arranged and very imperfect!) front-porch group pictures are becoming our jam here at Casa Papa and Grammy.

Anyway--

After lunch, we had a little Easter egg hunt for the four grandkids who were staying.

Four days after Easter, my husband and I headed north to Upstate NY, to check on our Oyster Haven rental house and get it ready for our first guests of the season.  These folks were coming from Utah for the solar eclipse, because our area of NY was going to be right along the narrow path of totality, right on the center line; and as long as the weather was clear, it promised to provide a perfect front-row seat.  

Aside from the two of us, four of my husband's siblings (along with two of their spouses) were together for the big event on April 8. We all met up at his older sister's successful brewery beforehand, where a large contingent--many of them people who'd traveled long distances (from all over the US, and even from as far away as Scotland and Ireland!)--were gathered on the grounds outside, picnicking and drinking her award-winning craft beers.

When the eclipse started, my husband and I quickly made the short drive over to the family homestead, because he wanted to monitor the video camera he'd set up to catch the whole thing for the siblings who couldn't be there to watch in person.  So the two of us watched the total eclipse of the sun from the back deck of his childhood home on Lake Champlain.

I took a before picture of my husband, when there was a crescent-moon shaped sliver of sunlight still showing:

Then a during picture, when the sun was completely blocked by the moon and it looked like nighttime (but you could still see some light over on the Vermont shore of the lake):

Then an after picture, when a crescent-moon shaped sliver of sunlight was appearing on the opposite side and instantly, the world was filled with bright daylight again.

Before the total eclipse, I took a picture with my iPhone; but it's amazing how hard it is to capture with a camera lens what you can see with the human eye.   I took the picture when there was just a sliver of sunlight that hadn't been blocked out yet.  Here's what I got: 

My sister-in-law (the brewery owner) had a friend who was able to get a pretty spectacular shot when the eclipse was total:

It was quite an experience.  I don't think I would have traveled half-way across the world to see it, like some people did...but since we had to go up to check on things at our rental anyway, we had a good excuse to make the trip from VA.  And I truly won't soon forget it!

Some things to think about, regarding this 2024 solar eclipse:

The eclipse took place on the Solemnity of the Annunciation, which was celebrated on April 8 this year because its usual date (March 25, exactly nine months before the birth of Our Lord) fell during Holy Week.  And since the week following Easter is considered a week of solemnities, it had to be moved to the first available weekday that was not a solemnity.  Monday, April 8 was that day.

What are the odds, right?

The Annunciation celebrates Mary's Fiat, Her "yes" to God, the acceptance of Her role as God's instrument in the Incarnation--and Her vital role in salvation history.  Mary's Fiat delivered a fatal blow to the devil, which is why She is often depicted crushing the head of the serpent under Her feet.  How fitting is it that this recent solar eclipse should happen on this important Marian feast day (reminiscent of the Miracle of the Sun at Fatima, is it not?). 

And there's more:  apparently, the "Devil Comet," last seen in 1954, was due to return on April 8 as well, and was going to be visible during the total eclipse.  We didn't see it.  (Did you?) But think of the symbolism there!  The Devil Comet, showing up after seven decades on the very same day that we are celebrating the Annunciation (and Mary's defeat of the devil!), during an awe-inspiring event that shows the majesty and power of God, the Creator of the heavens and the earth.  Whoah!  Coincidences?  I think not!

That's probably enough for now, I think.  I have one other "E" thing on my mind--Vitamin E, and how it (along with a lot of other vital nutrients) has been processed out of the bleached and "enriched" white flour that is on the shelves of our grocery stores (the flour with which I have always loved to bake goodies for my family!).  And how eating carbs made with this over-processed wheat flour has been detrimental to our health.  And...etc. etc. etc.  It's a long story, but I'm sure you don't want to hear all the details. Suffice it to say that my husband and I watched a three-hour-long podcast that really struck a chord with us, and we have decided to start milling our own flour at home.  We've ordered an electric flour mill and we're going to buy some wheat berries and start grinding them up.  In the next couple of weeks, I plan to start baking my own bread with this flour.  (Wish me luck!)

I foresee future blog posts about bread-baking adventures (or possibly misadventures).  So stay tuned!  :)

Life is Short, Use the Silver

I was inspired recently by one of my daughters-in-law, Ginger (wife of son #2), who texted me a photo of my boy dutifully polishing up a huge silver urn that she'd found at a thrift store.  (He's a good sport, that boy!)  I have silver serving dishes that had been packed away in boxes for ages, some that were gifts at our wedding 43 years ago; and after getting that text, I decided that it was time to break them out and polish them up.  Yes, it was time to start enjoying them on a regular basis, even when it's not a holiday!  Life is short, use the silver--that's my new motto.  :)

Before I continue, I'll tell you a little bit about this particular daughter-in-law: she is the queen of finding incredibly beautiful and ridiculously inexpensive treasures at the thrift store, and she has begun to embrace what they call the "Grandmillennial" decorating style, which is also sometimes referred to as "Granny chic."  This style incorporates many classic, traditional (read: old-fashioned) elements that were beloved by gals of my generation and our mothers--dark wood furniture (often antique); overstuffed couches and chairs upholstered in toile or floral chintz, with ruffles; wallpaper; blue and white china; silver and crystal, etc.--and uses them in fresh ways alongside modern pieces.  This warm, cozy, and eclectic decorating style is nothing new, but for a time it was considered stuffy, outdated, and cluttered-looking; therefore, you can find lots of items that fit the bill at the thrift store, because so many young people have not been interested in holding onto their grandparents' heirlooms! However, in recent years there has been an increasing appreciation for traditional home decor among some millennials, who for a time embraced a more pared-down, minimalistic decorating style (or Joanna Gaines's trademark all-white, wood, and metal aesthetic), but have begun to incorporate the furnishings and home accessories of past generations into their 21st century homes.  Ginger is one such millennial.

So, taking a cue from my sweet grandmillennial D-I-L, I went through some boxes in our basement storage room and got out my wedding pewter and silver, which I hadn't even set eyes upon in the seven years we've lived in this VA house.

Pewter doesn't tarnish as much as silver, but these still needed a little TLC.

I got out the silver polish and shined up these beauties!

One of the most beautiful pieces I own was actually a 25th anniversary gift from my mom and dad.  It's an antique chafing dish; I'm not quite sure of its origin, but I'm going to ask my mom about it the next time we talk.  Wherever it came from, it's just spectacular.  I can't believe it's been languishing in storage since we moved in here!

What is pictured here would have to be considered Granny chic decor.

Look at that beauty!

The other thing I decided to do was to put some of my wedding cutlery into regular use.  As a bride-to-be, I registered for some high quality Oneida stainless flatware (my mother's generation would register for silver or silverplated flatware, but few gals of my generation did so), and we received service for 20, along with a number of matching serving utensils.  The pattern is so pretty. 

Each place setting is 5 pieces.

I had 8 place settings of lower-quality Oneida stainless that was our "everyday" silverware, so I saved those 20 settings of the good stuff to use on Thanksgiving and Christmas, planning for the far-off day when I would have a family big enough to have to use them all at once for a special occasion.  (Goal achieved--ha ha!)

Anyway, while I was polishing up my wedding silver, one thing led to another.  And I got to thinking that our everyday flatware was getting kind of sorry-looking.  We still had 8 matching knives and dessert forks, and 7 soup spoons; but we had gotten down to one dinner fork and one teaspoon from the original set, so over the years I had gotten random pieces to fill in, either at Walmart or at the Oneida outlet, and the silverware drawer in the kitchen was filled with a mismatched mash-mash.  And most of our teaspoons were a tad nicked-up, after run-ins with the garbage disposal.  (Oops.)

So I decided to empty out the drawer and fill it with 8 lovely matching place settings of my wedding flatware (and to be vigilant about always checking to make sure that the garbage disposal has only food scraps in it before turning it on!).  The older I get, the more I realize that life is short, and we should use the pretty stuff now. Because if not now, then when?  And besides, even with 8 place settings in daily use, we are still left with 12 more stored away in the dining room, to break out for holiday dinners or whatever.

I definitely need to take good care of this beautiful flatware, however.  When I looked up my pattern online, I realized how expensive it would be to replace lost or garbage disposal-chewed pieces!

So that's my advice for today: don't wait for a special occasion to use all those lovely things you got as wedding gifts.  Every day is special.  Life is short, so use the silver.  And the pretty china.  And your "good" flatware.  And, well, you get the idea.

We often use paper products with these little peeps (son #4's gang);
but they know it's a special meal when we eat on the good dishes!

A Belated Happy St. Nicholas Day!

I meant to blog on the 6th...but life got in the way!  I hope it was a happy one for everyone!

Two of our sons celebrate the feast of St. Nicholas in a special way.  Here are a couple of pictures son #1's wife sent us from their celebration.

And son #2's wife was sure to let us know that their oversized St. Nicholas (which was a gift from us last Christmas) was part of the festivities at their house.

A few days ago, son #4's wife and four kids (triplets-5, and their little sister-3) came over to Papa and Grammy's for a play date, and I got a picture of each of them standing near our St. Nick.  I'm sharing these pictures with you because they are pretty much guaranteed to make you smile.  And also because it won't be long before they all tower over that figurine, so I want to have a record of the days when they were almost the same size as he is!

This fella is a dinosaur fanatic, which you might
have guessed.

It was a fun to give giant handcrafted wooden St. Nicks to each of our boys and their wives last year, and I hope when their children are all grown up they will be a part of their happy childhood Christmas memories.

This year, I couldn't think of anything particularly special to get or make for everyone.  Sometimes, I'm an inspired gift-giver, and sometimes I struggle.  I do so enjoy giving gifts, but that is not my main "love language" (a term I never heard used until I had daughters-in-law).  I'm what you might call bilingual: my two love languages are time spent together and acts of service.  

You probably know all about this love language stuff without me telling you.  But the other two are words of affirmation and physical touch.

All five of the love languages are great, don't get me wrong, and I hope I use them all well with the people who mean most to me.  But I'm just not fluent in gift-giving.

How about you?  What's your love language?  And does your family celebrate St. Nicholas Day in a special way? (We didn't when our boys were young, and I regret that now!)

Happy Birthday to Son #4!

Yesterday, the 4th son in the lineup of our five boys (our "basketball team," as everyone used to joke when they were growing up) turned 33!  I'm not really sure how this happened, when he looked like THIS not too long ago.  But it did. 

First grade school picture, so adorable!

This deep-feeling, faithfully Catholic, extremely intelligent, and kind-hearted guy has a biting wit and a way of putting things that amuses his family no end. He is a talented artist (his cartoons are amazing), a video game enthusiast, a dog lover, the devoted husband of our beautiful daughter-in-law Braveheart, and the hardworking father of four children under 4: triplets Pumpkin, Peanut, and Paquita (3-and-1/2) and 15-month-old Hermanita, who is his mini-me at that age...well, not quite; but if you substituted her glorious mop of dark hair with its signature top-of-the-head pigtail for a brush cut, they would absolutely be twins.

Hermanita, and a drawing I did of her daddy many moons
 ago.  Can you see the resemblance? 

Son #4 came along just over four years after the birth of son #1, so they were a tight-knit little pack.  Then, one week shy of son #4's fifth birthday, son #5 came on the scene.  It tells you a lot about this kid that even though he had spent five years as the baby of the family, he never once exhibited even the slightest bit of jealousy when his little brother took over that coveted spot.  In fact, he took our youngest son under his wing and was his staunchest defender and protector and his most enthusiastic playmate.  

We love this guy--and his growing family--big-time, and are so grateful that we live just over 1/2-hour away thanks to our big move south, so that we can see them often and help out as much as possible.

Sweet boy (yes, you will always be our boy!), we are proud to call you our son and wish you many, many more Happy Birthdays!

Hola, Hermanita!

I just got back home yesterday, after spending five days staying at the house of son #4 and his wife, Braveheart.  I went over there because they were due to welcome baby #4 any minute and needed Grammy on deck, ready to watch their 2-year-old triplets (identical twin boys Pumpkin and Peanut, and their sister, Paquita) when it was time to go to the hospital.

The first time around, Braveheart had had a C-section at 32 weeks.  She was told that therefore, even though this was her second pregnancy, her body might behave as if it was her first labor and  delivery--so it might be tough and take a while.  But of course we were all hoping that this would not be so.

Braveheart started having contractions on Friday, and who knew how quickly things would progress?  (Not as quickly as she and my son would have liked, as it turned out; not by a long shot!)  Just in case she was going to have a quick labor and delivery, I decided to pack an overnight bag and drive over that day to stay with them--even though we only live 35 minutes away and I probably could have made it in time if I'd been called last minute.  I figured that I could give my daughter-in-law a bit of a break and help out with the three munchkins until the baby came. (My husband was out of town but would join me when he could.)

I flew solo most of the time; but Papa came on Sunday in time for dinner,
 and he was able to be there for part of the day Monday, before leaving again
for work on Tuesday morning.

Braveheart labored all through the night Friday and into Saturday, but still wasn't sure if it was time or not.  By late Saturday afternoon, the contractions were getting extremely painful (and although they were not coming regularly, when they did come, they lasted an agonizing three minutes each!).  The kids decided to head to the hospital, hoping that it was go time.  After more than four hours of observation, however, they were sent back home.  Braveheart was only one centimeter dilated and they said she really wasn't in active labor yet.

Then just a few hours later, at about 11:00 at night, my son woke me up to tell me that he was putting the triplets' baby monitor in the guestroom (soon to be nursery) where I was sleeping, and that they were heading back to the hospital.  My poor daughter-in-law was just in so much unrelenting pain.

This time, thankfully, she was admitted, and before long she was progressing nicely.  She had her water broken and received an epidural, and she was finally able to get some relief from the pain.  But her labor was long and difficult.  Her contractions were irregular and lasted much longer than normal.  At one point, it looked like she might have to have another C-section, and our son posted a prayer request on our family text stream.  The prayers worked: shortly afterward, she was fully dilated and ready to push.  Unfortunately,  though, she had to push for an exhausting three and a half hours.  Finally, just before midnight on Sunday October 27, she delivered a beautiful, healthy baby girl with a head of thick black hair.  At 8 lbs. 11.05 oz. and 22.05 in., she weighed more than twice as much as her largest triplet sibling at birth!

On Tuesday, this sweet baby girl (who shall heretofore be known here at the blog as Hermanita--which in Spanish means "little sister") came home.  Her brothers were largely unimpressed and uninterested in her, although they came over to check her out and smiled at her.

Her big sister, on the other hand, had a totally different reaction.

At first, Paquita was confused and jealous and couldn't stop crying.  But those emotions soon evaporated and were replaced by a wave of fierce maternal love and protectiveness.  (Who says girls and boys aren't wired differently?  That little girl, hardly more than a baby herself, had an instinctive desire to nurture that baby!)  She wanted to hold HER baby constantly, to kiss her and hug her.  She kept putting her chubby little finger to her mouth and saying "Shhh" to the rest of us as she held her baby sister.

We were joking that Paquita might love the baby almost too much, if that's possible.  She's rather possessive and it's very hard to get Hermanita out of her arms--she puts up quite a fuss when that happens.  So Mom and Dad are going to have some challenges as their little family transitions from three to four children and everyone gets used to their new routines and their new normal.

I took some selfies with my precious new granddaughter soon after she came home.

When I saw the above photo it reminded me a little bit of a snapshot my husband took of me and our firstborn son shortly after we got home from the hospital, way back in October 1983.   The way I was positioned and holding the newborn infants in these pictures taken 36 years apart looked so similar, not to mention the expression of pure happiness on my face (and tiredness, too: in the old one, caused by childbirth...in the new one, by childcare!).

Did you notice the small, extremely old-fashioned TV photo-bombing us in this picture?

I still wear ginormous glasses (wait long enough and everything comes back in style!).  I still wear my hair long (but it's thinner and grayer these days).   When it comes to my fashion sense, very little has changed.  But oh, in almost every other way my life is so different now!  That inexperienced young mom was on cloud nine after the birth of her first baby boy.  But she could never have imagined how much richer and fuller (how could that be possible?!) her life would be one day: how four more sons would follow this one; how all five of them would get married and bring her daughters; and how, just when she started to mourn the loss of her babies, she would get so many new ones to love.

I'm telling you: one day you're a 25-year-old first-time mother...and before you know it, you're a 61-year-old grandmother of 15.

And this grandmother is still recovering from five days of wrangling three very busy, very chunky toddlers. I've been catching up on my sleep and I believe a nap is on my to-do list today.  After all, grandchild #16 is due any time now, and I'm going to be on call to watch her three older siblings when her parents leave for the hospital, at least until their other grandmother arrives to take over...so I better be rested up!