Saturday, August 6, 2022

July 2022 Recap: The Baptism of Our Youngest Grandchild

If you haven't been here lately, I recently blogged about a Pearl family wedding.  Our youngest grandchild (#19, who I’ve decided to call "Jet" here at the blog) was one of the wedding guests.   In between the Mass and the reception, he and his dad relaxed at the family homestead by the lake.  The happy expression you see here pretty much sums up this little fella's personality.


That picture was taken on his daddy's cousin's day; the day after the wedding, however, it would be all about him.

In the same church where his Papa and Grammy were married more than 41 years ago, which is also the same church where his Papa was baptized 64 years ago, which is also the same church where his godfather (our youngest son) was baptized more than 28 years ago, he would receive his first Sacrament of Initiation and officially become a Christian. Lots of family history in that church!  Could this weekend we were having get any better?  Filled with sacramental grace, that's what it was.

I made this gown from some linen-and-lace fabric that belonged to my mother-in-law
(so there's history there, too), and it was worn by his four older siblings.  :)


In typical Jet fashion, he never made a peep.  Such a sweet baby!


Our youngest son and his wife were proud to be named the godparents.  They live in Nashville and had traveled to NY for the wedding and our family vacation week at Oyster Haven afterward; so son #3 and his wife decided that this would be the perfect time to have the youngest of their five kids baptized. 
 


My 86-year-old mother was able to be there, which was also very special.  Jet is great-grandchild number 28 for her.  (She is so proud of this that she routinely checks the obituaries to see if any of her peers has more great-grandchildren than she does.  So far, she's the "winner.")
 

Four generations.

God bless this sweet baby boy.


Thursday, August 4, 2022

An Open Book: Young Love (in Fiction and IRL)

I have always been drawn to novels that tell stories of young love, of childhood crushes that survive the awkward phases of adolescence and morph into beautiful adult relationships.  You know, "coming of age" stories, ones that some might think are better suited to YA readers than adult ones.  Perhaps this is because I myself found the love of my life, my husband of 41 years, in high school. I started dating him in 1973, the summer after our freshman year, when we were both 15.  I LOVE our love story, which includes only growing closer and more sure that we belonged together during the four years we were attending different colleges, separated by about 850 miles.

A  couple of months ago I had a fun conversation with my middle son and his wife about our teenage romance, about how I can remember writing "Laura Pearl" and "Mrs. Laura Pearl" in the margins of my high school notebooks, practicing my signature for the hoped-for future--even though I actually worried that my guy and I had met much too young and therefore would probably never end up married.  I was convinced that he was going to go off to Notre Dame to find a prettier, smarter, more interesting girl and that would be the end of that.  The night before he left for college, I cried my eyes out, sure that the best years of my life were coming to an end at the age of 18.

Never have I been so happy to be wrong about something!

1980

Anyway, give me a novel where the heroine meets her true love when she's very young, and I am almost always hooked.  But such novels in our modern age are often completely ruined by totally inappropriate and unnecessary scenes of physical intimacy that have no business in any story about young (unmarried!) love.  Or even mature married love.  What’s with the voyeurism?!  It’s so hard to find works of fiction that are sweet and romantic without being unrealistically sappy, but are also clean--clean enough for even a teen to read.  I’m always on the lookout for them.

Providentially, my husband and I happened to listen to a podcast about my favorite movie of all time, It's a Wonderful Life, and Donna Reed's daughter was on as a guest.  Reed played the lovable Mary Hatch Bailey, wife of Jimmy Stewart's iconic George, of course; but her daughter also talked about some of the other movies in which her mother had had roles, and she mentioned a 1947 film called Green Dolphin Street.  She explained the plot a bit and then added that it had been a novel first.  Well, I was intrigued and immediately searched for the book online.  Within a few days, a paperback copy had arrived on my doorstep.


Here is the synopsis on the back cover of Green Dolphin Street, written by Elizabeth Goudge and originally published in 1944: 

"When Marianne Le Patourel meets William Ozanne in the 1830's on an island in the English Channel, she sets her heart on him. Her sister Marguerite, however, falls in love with him too.  When his Navy career is cut short, William eventually settles in New Zealand and writes to Mr. Le Patourel to ask for Marguerite's hand in marriage--but in his nervousness he pens the wrong name in his letter.  It is Marianne who arrives aboard the sailing ship Green Dolphin.

And so begins this sweeping novel that takes the characters on dramatic adventures from childhood through old age..."

Oh yeah, I was going to love this book.  I just knew it.  Though fictional, this historical novel is based on fact, on a man who really did write to ask for the hand of the girl he loved and ended up with the wrong sister, but made a good job of his marriage.  Knowing that made the story even more interesting to me.  And the writing is just magnificent.  When I was only about 150 pages into the book, with more than 400 more to go, I starting picking out some of the early passages that I found achingly beautiful, planning that I would do a full review when I was finished. (I guess this would be a good time to warn you that if you're not a big reader and you're not passionate about the written word, you might be bored by the rest of this post!)

When plain and somewhat dour Marianne meets handsome, happy-go-lucky young William for the first time, Goudge writes: "She stood with her back against the door, stiff and ungainly, staring at him with great dark eyes that seemed to devour his face with the intensity of her gaze, and she could not move or speak...her heart did not delay to claim this male creature for her own.  She was in love, in love at sixteen, desperately in love, as Juliet was, and with a boy who for all his height and strength and maturity was only a child of thirteen years.  It was absurd.  But then Marianne was never at any time in the least like other girls."

Who could resist this sweet boy?  “William would always squander himself, giving back easily the affection and liking so easily given to him.  'You're good, William,' she cried impulsively.  And for just one flashing moment, deep in her heart, she acknowledged his superiority...He was untidy, lazy, grubby, ill-brought-up, with a dangerous streak of weakness in him.  But...she would make of him such a man as the world had never seen. And he would love her as she loved him; it was not possible that he should not when she loved him so terribly.  He would die with her name on his lips." 

The way Goudge describes William, a reader can easily understand why the two sisters are smitten with him.  He’s handsome, but there’s more to him than that.  On one hand, he is a rapscallion and a typical teenage boy; but on the other, he is just about the kindest-hearted person in the world: "the bitterness of her tone made William look at her in astonishment.  He did not know what the trouble was, but he gripped her hand hard in sympathy.”  And this: "his instinct told him she was vexed about something and his kindness longed to apply what balm he could."  (Yes, Marianne, was vexed--because she knew that her lovely, joy-filled younger sister Marguerite loved William, too, and would probably win his heart; but she was determined to have him for her own anyway!)

William has a simple, childlike goodness that Marianne is attracted to, though she does not possess it herself; "he wanted...that everyone should be as happy as he was himself.  He flirted, too, with a bland impartiality that was almost godlike.  For he liked women as women, whether they were pretty or plain.  If they were pretty he enjoyed their prettiness, and if they were plain he was sorry for them and flirted with them all the more that they should forget it."

Marguerite's happy demeanor, her pure, almost saintly goodness is a like a mirror image of William's.  These two dear souls seem destined to be together; yet Marianne is determined to do whatever it takes to have William for herself.  In the end, no wiles are necessary, for he mixes up the names of the two sisters who played such huge roles in his youth and because of his tragic blunder, Marianne ends up the winner.  

Now that I've finished the book, I'll try not to give too much away, except to say that this is exactly the kind of story I relish: an epic tale that spans generations and explores the complexities of human relationships, exposing the deepest recesses of the hearts of the characters. Goudge is a gifted wordsmith, and I devoured each page of her beautiful prose greedily, rereading passages just to enjoy the way she puts things.  And the plot has plenty of twists and turns to keep a reader on the edge of her seat.  When I turned the last page, I was sorry to see it end.  What an amazing gift of a story!

Although a terrible mistake leads to the marriage of William and Marianne, when Marguerite is the woman he really wanted, so much good does come out of it: each of these two women is "saved" by the man they both love.  That is quite a Catholic theme: that God can make good come out of bad, that there is forgiveness and redemption possible for even the worst of transgressions.  In the end, that one terrible mistake, that mix-up of names, not only saves the two sisters, but William himself as well. Had the right sister sailed to New Zealand on the Green Dolphin to become his bride, he might never have become the man he was meant to be.   

As I said before, this novel is epic in scope.  It is populated with real and relatable characters, complex people who struggle to overcome their weaknesses.  There are conversions and reversions, and this novel plainly illustrates the power of the Catholic Faith to change lives.  Throughout the story, the message is clear that sacrificial love is the best kind of love--that TRUE love must always "pay the price" (just as Christ paid the ultimate price with his life, out of love for us and for our salvation).  Indeed, when the different characters learn to let go of pride and selfishness and live for the well-being and happiness of others, they grow in holiness and finally experience genuine joy.

Goodness, this is an extraordinary book, so engrossing and so, so moving.  I cannot recommend it highly enough!  I packed it to take along with me to NY this summer so that I can read it again--proof that it has moved onto my list of all-time favorite novels.

In fact, after enjoying Green Dolphin Street so much, I decided to try another novel by Elizabeth Goudge (who is apparently a favorite novelist of many, judging by the Amazon reviews of her books; how am I just finding her now?!).  This one was called The Scent of Water, and oh my, again I was completely blown away--by the beauty of the writing and by the author's keen insights regarding human nature and relationships.  While not a book about young love, it is very much a book about love, in all its forms: married love, parental love, love of God, and His infinite capacity of love for us--even about learning to love oneself.  This amazing book deals with the complexities and frailties of the human condition, with such tenderness and compassion.



Here's a quick synopsis: Mary Lindsay relocates to a small English country village, after she inherits an old house from an elderly deceased cousin whom she met only once, as a child.  Before moving to bucolic Appleshaw, Mary was a busy city-dweller and career woman.  She had been engaged to a man who died in WWII and had never married.  Now 50, she moves into her cousin's house and her whole life changes.  As Mary gets to know all the different inhabitants of this small town, with all their virtues and all their quirks, she sees just about every type of human struggle: physical and mental infirmity, anxiety and depression, sublimely intact and tragically broken marriages, corrupt business dealings, parents grieved by wayward children, and so much more.  But the author does not paint any one of the characters that populate this wonderful story as either pure saint or pure sinner.  Though flawed, they all have qualities to love and admire.  And the town takes care of its own, loyally helping and protecting all who live there, no matter what.  

There are so many beautiful reflections in this book about faith, about loneliness and heartache, about learning the truth about ourselves and the people we thought we knew.  It's just the most wonderful novel, beautifully written, by an author I've come to love so much.  I recommend it highly--especially for fellow introverts who like nothing better than to get lost in a good book. As Goudge puts it so perfectly when Mary is getting tired of dealing with an overly talkative houseguest, "What one wanted when exhausted by the noise and impact of physical bodies was not no people, but disembodied people; all these denizens of beloved books who could be taken to one's heart and put away again, in silence, and with no hurt feelings."  [Sigh.] She gets me!

Elizabeth Goudge's father was an Anglican rector, so I don't believe she was a Catholic; but her works reflect so many themes that are right in line with Catholic teachings.  In The Scent of Water, an old man who suffers from mental illness and therefore knows just what it means to share Our Lord's Cross says to Mary, "My dear, love, your God, is a Trinity.  There are three necessary prayers and they have three words each.  They are these.  'Lord have mercy.  Thee I adore.  Into Thy hands.'"  Powerful stuff!  I'm finding that books by this prolific English author are just plain good for my soul. 

Are you looking for compelling summer reading?  Then my advice to you is to read one of these books (Green Dolphin Street is my favorite).  I don't think you'll be disappointed.  But maybe you need more than just one book to read while you're sitting by the pool or the lake.  If you're looking for more recommendations, check out Carolyn's link-up!


Tuesday, August 2, 2022

July 2022 Recap: A Family Wedding!

Well, the month of July went right by, and I never wrote about the most memorable parts of it!  But better late than never, right?

Just before the Fourth of July, the oldest child of one of my husband's younger sisters got married.  Although both this son of hers and his lovely bride grew up in NC (they met in grade school and started dating in high school), he had spent many weeks of his childhood summers in Upstate NY, staying at his maternal grandparents' house on the lake (the same house where my husband and I now spend our summers, while we manage our Oyster Have rental property just down the road).   The bride had visited often over the years as well and fell in love with the area, so they decided to get married up here.  For the extended Pearl family, this was extremely convenient.  Aside from the large house where they grew up, three of my husband's sisters own a total of four houses within spitting distance of each other and the family homestead, so not too many on our side needed to find lodging.  Also, my husband's older sister owns Valcour Brewing Company, a craft brewery/restaurant located in an historic building known as the Old Stone Barracks, and it has a number of inn-style rooms to rent.  She blocked off all the rooms for family and that's where our youngest son and his wife (the only ones who as yet have no children) stayed during the wedding weekend.

Our gang didn't end up staying at our Oyster Haven house as you might expect, because we rented it to the bride's NC-based family for the week leading up to the wedding until the day after.  The rehearsal dinner, followed by a party for all the wedding guests--where we enjoyed dancing to live Irish music provided by a family band made up of relatives of the bride (I believe it was agreed that they'd out-Irished the very Irish Pearl clan!)--was at an event center literally next door to Oyster Haven, so our house was perfect for them.  And they enjoyed the lake in the time leading up to the big day--and also enjoyed getting pictures of the bridal party after the wedding, with our extremely picturesque view in the background.  (My husband and I, and three of our boys who have 13 kids between them, stayed in a local hotel.  Then we all moved into the house the Sunday after the wedding, for our annual Pearl family lake vacation; but more about that in a future post!)

Anyway, it was such a beautiful, joyful day!  The wedding ceremony took place in the church where my husband and I got married way, way back in 1980.  (The parents of the groom, and many other Pearl relatives in attendance, had gotten married there as well!)  I can't believe I didn't get one picture of the happy couple at the church, as they were joined in Holy Matrimony...or maybe I can, as everyone in the family had been included on the guest list.  That means 13 of our 19 grandchildren were in attendance that day (our oldest son and his family who moved to Iowa in January were not able to make the trip), and we sat with some of them during the wedding Mass.  So I was not in picture-taking mode.

After the wedding, there was some lag time before the reception started.  So we took the kids over to the Pearl family homestead, and we let them go down to the lake (while mothers' cries of "Don't get your clothes wet!" could be heard drifting down from above).

At "the wall" (the seawall near the water) at my husband's childhood home,
with a few of my boyfriends.  ;)




The setting for the reception--on the grounds in front of the Old Stone Barracks--was absolutely perfect for an event that included so many small children: outside, under a tent (and the weather totally cooperated!), with tons of room to run around and play.  



It wasn't that long ago that these two had their beautiful wedding
reception in a similar setting: out in a field, under a big white tent!


The kiddos really brought their A-game.  They all behaved so well.





And they danced!


Daddy-Daughter dance!


Mother-Son dance!

This is how Papa and Grammy dance, with a baby between them!


There were three sets of triplets at the wedding: our almost-5-year-old grandchildren (who belong to son #4), my husband's younger sister's college-aged trio, and the twenty-something BRIDE and her brother and sister.  

Triplets, in triplicate!


It was a truly wonderful day, enjoyed by all.  And I hope it will be a happy memory for all of these little people I love so much!

Friday, July 22, 2022

The State of the Blog

It has been almost a full month since my last post! And so much has happened that I could have written about! We had a big family wedding here in NY just before the Fourth of July, then the Baptism of our youngest grandchild the day after the wedding, then a week-long vacation with four of our boys and their wives and 13 of our grandchildren at our Oyster Haven VRBO lake house; and since then, daily visiting with relatives from both my husband's family and mine...

There has been so much to write about, but so little motivation to write!

This might be part of the problem.


Yes indeed, that might be it for sure.

Anyway, this is just a quick post to say that eleven-plus years ago, I hit the "publish" button on my first post for String of Pearls (which is what I called this blog before I tweaked the name with a tip o' the hat to the Irish a few years back)...and somehow, I'm still here.  I'm still blogging.  

And as if the fact that I'm in my 60's doesn't tell you that I'm a dinosaur, saying that I'm a blogger in 2022 shouts it loud and clear.

So many of the blogs that I followed back in the day are no longer being updated.  Haven’t been in quite some time, actually.  When I joined the fray, there were Catholic bloggers who'd already been at it a long time. Little did I know that the Old Guard bloggers whose names were so well-known that all you needed to say was "Grace" or "Dwija" or "Britt" and everyone knew exactly whom you were talking about were about to abandon long form blogging for the brighter, shinier world of Instagram.  I had jumped on a speeding train that was about slow down and pretty much head to the station for the last time, and I didn't even know it.  Eventually, I followed the crowd and started posting more on Instagram than I did here at the blog...but I was ON FIRE for blogging as a newbie in 2011.

When I started this site, my youngest son was about to graduate from high school and head off to Notre Dame, and my oldest son was about to become a new father to identical twin girls.  I was about to become an empty-nester and a first-time Grammy, all at once. And suddenly, I had this great platform for archiving family memories and keeping an online journal, not to mention a thoroughly delightful way to exercise my writing muscles on a regular basis, all wrapped up into one glorious package.  Plus, there was an unexpected blessing: blogging was a way to connect and make "friends" with fellow writers and other like-minded fellow Catholic moms.

I loved blogging.

I blogged nearly every day the first few years.  In 2011, I wrote 286 blog posts (and I started in March, so I missed the first few months!).  In 2012, I wrote 331 posts; in 2013, 275.  Those were the halcyon days of blogging for me.  Jump ahead to 2017, and I only posted 49 times that whole year.  If you add up 2018, 2019, and 2020, there were 142 posts in all; my goodness, in one of my prior "unproductive" years, 2016, there were more than that (180).  I'm making a short story very long here; suffice it to say that I'm blogging way, way less these days.  It's already July and so far my output for 2022 is 23 posts, counting this one.  2011 me would not recognize 2022 me.  I did spend six of these past years immersed in the Insta-world; but I can’t blame my meager blogging output on Instagram anymore, because I deleted my account in 2021.

But I’m not quite finished, I guess.  This blog is not dead yet.

Jenny Uebbing, one of my earliest blogging heroes, said in her most recent post at Mama Needs Coffee, "blogging is dead!"  But she also said, "I can resurrect this dead horse any old time it works for me and then beat it back into submission with my silence and nobody will care."  Hey, that’s how I feel about my dying horse, too. (But Jenny, I for one do care about yours!  And once a month is just not often enough for me to hear what you have to say!)

She only blogs sporadically now; but in another recent Mama Needs Coffee post, Uebbing says, "My heart always thrills at the sight of an old fashioned long form blog post popping up from one of my dusty, trusty favorite blogs who've somehow managed to survive instagram tiktok and substack."  (I had to look up substack, because like I told you above, I am a bit of a dinosaur; but YES!  Yes to all this!) 

So many of the bloggers I "met" early on have a big presence on Instagram these days, but not so much in the blogosphere; however, several of them are still at it, and my heart thrills at the site of their latest old fashioned long form blog posts.  Kendra Tierney doesn't post as often as she used to at Catholic All Year, but she's still blogging.  Colleen at Martin Family Moments, Madeline at A Dash of Snark, and Beth at A Mom's Life are still updating regularly, and they are my core blogger "friend" group that I visit with these days.  Ernie at  No Small Feat is another regular blogger who's been at it a while but whose site I found just recently.

I now have more than 1,500 posts in my archives, and over 650,000 page views—it would be sorta cool to get to a million.  (She throws her head back and cackles!  As if!)  But it looks like that would take another ten years at least, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be at this that long!

I currently have an IT problem that I can't quite figure out: I can't comment on either my blog or any other blogs using my laptop or iPhone, but I can do so on my Kindle.  (??)  It's as if the blogger dashboard doesn't have me signed in to my account...and yet I can still do my blog posts.  I don't get it.  I hesitate to try to "fix" the problem, because I'm afraid I'll end up locked out of my blog altogether.  So if you've been kind enough to leave me a comment in recent months and I haven't acknowledged it, sorry about that!  It's just a lot harder for me to comment than it used to be. But I love hearing from you!

P.S. This is now my only social media outlet!  I'm totally off Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn.  I've never been on TikTok.  And Substack...yikes, what next?  I can't keep up!  So I shall only blog!  (Posts are coming soon about all the wonderful July goings-on in the Pearl clan, so stay tuned.)

Saturday, June 25, 2022

The View from Up Here

We have been in Upstate NY for almost a week.  Ever since we moved from NH to VA in 2017, our routine has been to spend every summer up here in our old hometown, living in my husband's childhood home on the lake and attending Mass at the church where we were married in 1980.  We own a lake house just three or so miles down the road, which is mostly a VRBO rental, and we manage that property (which we named Oyster Haven) during the busy summer season.  (We have cleaners; but we take care of the laundry and making the beds on turnover days.)

I do love it here, even though I dearly miss what we have to leave behind in VA.  We get to visit with extended family (my husband and I both have sisters who still live here, and my 86-year-old mom lives with one of mine); we get to spend lots of time out on our boat; it's like being on a two-month-long date, in a way.

When we're in VA, we divide our time between the families of three of our five sons who live close by.  Their growing tribes keep us very busy. We are so incredibly lucky to have so many of our precious grandchildren (13 of 19) living nearby in the place where we spend most of the year.

I mean, look at this beautiful view!


I miss being in my own house, because I'm a homebody/nester/introvert; but it's really nice being here in NY, too. My husband and I started dating at 15, so in the almost-fifty years since, I've spent a lot of time in this wonderful house.  It’s like a second home.

Still...I miss my cozy cottage in VA, where the grandkids gather so often.




But as much as I miss those VA views, I must admit the the view from up here is not too shabby.

Oyster Haven's back yard.

And next weekend our VA gang plus our youngest son and his wife will be joining us for a Pearl family wedding, followed by almost a week together, staying at our Oyster Haven house (which we've blocked off for our own use).

So life is good, my friends.  I hope you're having an excellent summer so far.

Sunday, June 19, 2022

A Birthday Love Letter to My Boyfriend

Yes, I’m a married woman (it’s been 41 and 1/2 years now!).  So what’s up with title of this post?!

Well, you see, that’s the way I think of my husband, even all these years later.  He made my heart skip a beat every time I looked at him, way back when I was a 15-year-old girl in love for the first time.  And he still does.  He’s still the one.

Of all the choices I’ve made in my life, the best one, the most important one, was marrying him.  He has never, in all our years together, failed to put me first and do everything in his power to support and take care of me, to make me happy.  He treats me like a queen (as St. Paul instructed—you know, as Christ loved the Church), and always insisted that our boys do the same.  They all knew that the most surefire way to get in trouble with their dad would have been to speak disrespectfully to me; but honestly, they just didn’t do that. It wasn’t an issue.  They had an excellent role model and they followed his lead, and I’m not just putting on my rose-colored glasses when I say that my husband’s sons treated their mother like gold as boys—and if anything, they treat her even better now that they are men.

He’s one of a kind, my guy—a true family man in every possible sense of the word, the fearless leader of our string of Pearls. He always considered himself a husband and father first; airline pilot was just the job he had that made it possible for him to provide for his wife and sons. He prioritized time at home with his family, which enabled him to help coach his boys’ football and lacrosse teams from youth leagues through high school.  He’s funny, smart, hardworking, soft-hearted (yes, boys, underneath that tough disciplinarian who kept you on the straight and narrow lurked the heart of a big old marshmallow), loving, generous, ethical, faithful, and faith-filled, a talented carpenter and an all-around handy guy when it comes to household projects.  My worst day with him is better than my best day without him, to quote one of the country songs we heard at the Grand Ole Opry on our recent trip to Nashville.

Here is a post called Our Boys' Life Coach that I wrote way back in 2014.  It will give you an idea of the kind of man and father my husband is (and since his birthday falls on Father's Day this year, this will count as his "Happy Father's Day" shout-out as well!). 

I forgot to mention that he’s easy on the eyes.  And strong, too.  Every other day, he does 1,000 push-ups (20 a minute for 50 minutes).  Not too shabby for a 64-year-old, if I do say so. And I do!

My husband was obviously my inspiration for Grace Kelly’s high school crush in Finding Grace.  I mean, who else could be?  And her feelings for him?  All me. That character was not supposed to be like me; but her feelings for Tom Buckley were very much inspired by mine for MY real life love interest.  (Real life: better than fiction!)

In Chapter 10, here’s a peek inside Grace’s 14-year-old mind:: 

Grace couldn’t meet Tom’s eyes, as usual, so she directed her gaze at those arms of his.  He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and had his jacket slung over his shoulder...Grace could imagine those strong, golden arms around her, keeping her safe.  She could imagine them tenderly cradling their newborn baby.

“It’s official,” she thought, “I’ve lost my mind!”


Grace Kelly sure likes that handsome boy.  Everything about him, even his arms.

I get that!  I like everything about this man I married, my boyfriend for life.  On our trip to Iowa in May, I snapped this candid picture of him staring pensively out the window while holding our little sleeping granddaughter (#18 of our 19 grandchildren).

Be still my heart!  Here’s what 1,000 push-ups every other day produces, arm-wise: the world’s best baby-holding arms (like Grace Kelly imagined when she looked at Tom’s).  They used to hold our baby boys; now they hold our grandchildren.

Happy Birthday to my best friend and the love of my life.  My boyfriend.  ❤️

Monday, June 6, 2022

I Kind of Like Them


These boys.

I can’t believe that I was their first home, that these five very large, amazing humans once lived in me.  And now, five pieces of my heart live outside my body, which is an extremely vulnerable feeling.  But such is motherhood.

I don’t care how old your kids get (or how tiny they make you look); your babies will always be your babies.  There’s no getting around it.  As long as I’m living, my babies they’ll be, as the book says.  (You know what book I’m talking about! 😭)


(Ummm...they are adorable, but I was not big on parting and combing or slicking down my boys' hair for photos.  Or on fresh haircuts in general, apparently!  LOL)

On Saturday, we were driving back home to VA after a few days in Upstate NY, and we listened to a playlist of our all-time favorite songs for about four hours straight.  Three of them were songs my boys had picked for the Mother-Son Dances at their weddings: Garth Brooks’ “Your Song” (son #1); the Backstreet Boys’ “Perfect Fan” (sons # 2, 3, and 4); and Garth Brooks’ “Mom” (son #5).

So, dear readers...Guess whether or not I did a wee bit of weeping in the car when those nostalgia-inducing tunes came on. And guess whether or not hearing those sweet songs prompted me to start putting together this blog post, while we were still on the trip.

Ding, ding, ding!  Right you are, yes on both counts!

It’s hard for me to even articulate my feelings for my boys.  Any words I come up with will be inadequate.  But let me tell you a few of the things I like best about them.

They love God and live their Faith.  This is the most important thing, obviously.  They have held onto and practice their Catholic Faith, married women who share it, and are passing it on to their children.  And they aren’t “Cafeteria Catholics.”  In a world that is increasingly secular humanistic and morally corrupt, this is everything to their dad and me.

They’re funny.  They make each other laugh.  They make me laugh.  I love just being around them and listening to their goofy back-and-forth, their deep voices, their infectious laughter.  I love when they tease me.  (Teasing is a love language, at least in our house.)

They’re kind and loving sons.  They speak to us with respect, always.  They give the most thoughtful gifts.  They appreciate everything we do for them.  And they seem to like spending time with their dear old Mom and Dad and having us play an important role in their children's lives.

They’re pro-life family men, and they love being fathers.  And what a joy it is to see them in that role!  They do it all: bedtimes, baths, diaper changes, cooking, feeding; they're totally hands-on, and have even started coaching some of their kids' youth sports teams.  (And from time to time, a boy of ours might come home with a pair of light-up—dare I say tacky?—unicorn sandals that his beloved wife would never purchase, to the absolute delight of his 2-year-old fashionista!)

There is so much more to say, and to truly give our sons their due...well, I would have to write ten long blog posts for each one.  Our boys have unique and different personalities; however, they have many traits in common and share a number of interests.  They're all extremely intelligent men, responsible, talented, hard-working, interesting to talk to.  I know I just sound like a proud mama who looks at her kids through rose-colored glasses, and you can think that if you want to.  (How does it feel being wrong, though?  Ha ha!)

Anyway--

Suffice it to say that I kind of like my boys.  I like them a lot.  I love them, of course, unconditionally and with every fiber of my being.  But I also really like them.  They're my favorites.

(P.S. And they do make me feel tiny.  There's that, too.)