Call Me a Sentimental Old Fool

My husband and I are in a holding pattern right now, ready to hop in the car and head to Nashville as soon as we get the call that says our youngest son is about to become a daddy.

I was organizing a drawer in my kitchen this morning, one that has a bunch of random utensils and miscellaneous cooking gadgetry in it (everything from toothpicks to measuring cups and spoons to those little holders you put on the ends of ears of hot corn on the cob).  I think I was inspired by our middle son's wife, who is in the process of settling into their new house and has been fitting all of her pristine new kitchen drawers with organizational containers and dividers and such.  A place for everything, and everything in its place, if you will.  I was making a quiche and opened the drawer to get out some measuring spoons for the spices, and it was a bit of a mess in there.  So I sorted through everything until it made sense, and in the process what did I find but this stainless steel baby spoon that I'd totally forgotten I had.

It's not just ANY spoon, you see.  It's engraved with the name of the hospital where our youngest son was born, along with the year: 1993.  (1993 or yesterday?  Potato, po-tah-to.)

For 30 years--30 years!--I've held onto this spoon, a parting gift from the hospital where our last baby was born.  And I'm sure the reason I've done so is that I thought eventually, he would have babies of his own and they could use the spoon he used.  I haven't looked at it once in the six years we've lived in this VA house, and I'm just thrilled that I found it quite by accident today.

So that's going into my suitcase for this upcoming trip, obviously!

Another item I'm going to pack is a stuffed baby Simba that this same son of ours got for Christmas when he was two and a Lion King fanatic to the nth degree.  He wasn't a big stuffed animal guy, though (none of our boys were), so it looks like new after 28 years of languishing in a closet. I didn't ever pass it on to any of our little nieces and nephews, or even to our grandchildren, because I was saving it for him.  The day when he might need it for his own children always seemed so, so far into the future, but I was patient...and incredibly, that future is now!  

Maybe our new little granddaughter will love on this stuffed Simba fiercely enough that he will finally look his age!

Am I a sentimental old fool for holding onto so many mementos from our boys' childhood days?   Maybe.  You can call me that, I don't mind.  If the shoe fits and all that good stuff.

A Christening Ensemble for a Living Doll

Just a warning: this is going to be a photo-rich post. I'm writing it mostly for myself, to have scrapbook-style memories that I can keep forever.  Because I'm about to give away a beloved item that I've been hanging onto for three decades; and although it is going to the very recipient for whom I was saving it all these years, I will miss seeing it hanging in one of the guest room closets of our house.

This guest room of which I speak is one that I always thought of as our youngest son's room, because when we moved into this house in VA almost seven years ago, he was the only one of our five boys who wasn't married yet.  So I wanted him to have a room that was "his" whenever he came to visit us here.  He was in the Army, stationed in Germany, when we sold his childhood home and moved south, and I always felt a little guilty about that.  He loved our NH house; it was the only one he'd ever known.  Our other boys had all started families and had homes of their own, so they didn't need to have bedrooms here; but our baby did.

A dresser-top tribute to my baby boy.
 (BTW: who is that old lady in the mirror?!)

Well, that baby of ours is 30 now.  And he's about to have a baby of his very own.  His wife is due with child #1, a girl, in about a week.  And we are ready to head to Nashville as soon as we get the word that she's in labor.

When we pack up the car to get on the road, we will be bringing with us the christening gown I made for my youngest son 30 years ago.  Our four older boys had worn a Pearl family heirloom made by my mother-in-law; but our nephew, who was born four days before son #5, was being baptized on the same day as he was, and that nephew was going to be wearing the family gown.  (The cousins were baptized together at the church in upstate NY where Pearls had been attending Mass for generations--and where my husband and I were married in 1980.)

So in 1993, I made this christening gown.

The fabric wasn't the best--just a very pedestrian cotton blend.  When I made christening gowns for our four oldest boys' babies starting in 2011, I used lovely linen-and-lace fabrics that I found in my late mother-in-law's attic.  A talented seamstress, she had quite a vast collection of fabrics and sewing notions stored up there. But back in 1993 when I set out to sew my first christening gown, she was still alive and I didn't dare ask her if I could have something from the attic.  I knew she had lots of plans for the things she was going to make with all those bolts of material and piles of white linen pillow shams.  So the fabric I used for my creation wasn't top-notch; but I put pin-tucks in the bodice and hand-embroidered shamrocks on both the bodice and skirt.  I poured lots of love into that gown, and my boy looked like an angel in it.  (I would include a picture, but I have somehow misplaced the photo album that has the photos from his Baptism!)

For this new granddaughter we can’t wait to meet, I added that pearl cluster button embellishment. (Originally, if memory serves me, there was a long white satin ribbon there, tied in a bow, fastened in place with a safety pin.) To tell you the truth, I can't believe I never thought to sew any seed pearls onto that gown back when I made it!  (Opportunity missed!)

Our boy didn't have any sort of hat for his Baptism, but I thought I'd use a piece of fabric from my mother-in-law's attic to make a bonnet for his baby girl.  

This was a pillow sham that I took apart.  I love how there are shamrock shapes in the embroidery.
I thought that would make the bonnet match the gown!

I can think of few things that give me more joy than taking a flat piece of fabric and turning it into some garment that can be worn by my grandchildren.  This bonnet was so much fun to make!

Sorry for the photo dump, but as I said: this is a memory-keeping post for me.  Bear with me now...Here are some pictures of one of my porcelain dolls, who is not quite as big as a real newborn baby, modeling the gown and bonnet ensemble.

Well, these precious items are all packed up in a pretty storage box now, ready to load in the car as soon as we get the call that says it's go time.  Please keep our daughter-in-law and her baby in your prayers, for a safe (and relatively easy!) labor and delivery.

Laughter and Tears

If you come here often, you know that our middle son, his wife, and their five adorable young children were living with us temporarily while waiting to move into their new house.  It had been in the process of being built over the past year or so, and was supposed to be finished in time for them to enjoy their first Christmas in it...which it wasn't.  So they spent Christmas at our house.   (And we all got a nasty stomach bug for the holidays, but let's not get into that right now!)

What was supposed to be about a week or two with us stretched into six weeks, and those poor kids were commuting about an hour every day to work and school.  But as of about a week ago, they are all moved into what they hope will be their "forever home," a big, beautiful house on a quiet cul de sac street.  It's just perfect for them, and they are beyond thrilled to be in their own place.

Living at our house was not perfect for them (the sleeping arrangements were a tad dicey); and yet, it was a pretty sweet time for all of us.  We miss seeing them every day.  We miss scenes like these.

Well, that was the "tears" part to which I was referring in the title of this post; but I was being a little dramatic. Because although my husband and I miss seeing this cute little family on a daily basis, they are so much better off where they are.  And it only takes us about 35-40 minutes to make the drive over to visit them at their new house.  So we shall survive the separation!  It's all happy tears, dear readers.

Now for the "laughter" part of this post!

Our middle son and his wife Preciosa decided to give us "an experience" as a Christmas gift, rather then something wrapped up in a package: they got tickets for the four of us to go out on a double date to see Brian Regan, who was performing nearby in mid-January.  (Their wonderful sitter, a mother of grown children, drove all the way to our house to watch their kiddos for them.) They could not have picked a better entertainment experience for us!  Brian Regan has always been one of our very favorite comedians, because he's goofy and hilarious and never resorts to profanity or raunchy jokes.  His comedy is clean enough to be enjoyed even by young children.  We just love him!

We had the best seats, way up in the fourth row.  

Regan hasn't lost a step since we first started following him many years ago.  He was fantastic--doing all new material that we hadn't heard before--and this night out with the kids was a special one that we will always remember.

We all need a lot more laughter in our lives, especially in this anxiety-inducing day and age in which we live.  Thanks so much to these two, who gifted us with a night filled with laughter.  Love, too.  Let's not forget the love!

Houseguests and New Houses...and So Much More

When you have a lot of children (and not that the five my husband and I have is that many, but it's enough for what I'm about to say to be true), it seems that there are seasons where one is definitely more in need of your help and support than the others and becomes your focus for a while.  But then inevitably, life happens and another one of your chicks moves to the front of the parental assistance line.  That's just the way it goes.  It helps if your kids know deep in their souls that you don't have a favorite (we joke about that constantly in our house, but I think the only reason it's funny is that our boys know we absolutely do NOT have a favorite; we have five of them). 

It also helps if your kids aren't score-keepers (our boys aren't), because it always ends up that when all is said and done, each child gets what they need, when they need it--at least they get as much as we can possibly give them, as inadequate as that might be.  Sometimes it seems that one of them is getting the lion's share of our attention and support, but if so, it's because that one just needs it the most at that moment.  For instance, in the months after our fourth son's wife gave birth to triplets in 2017, Papa and I spent a good deal more time helping them out than we did the others.  Because, you know: TRIPLETS!

But the triplets are 5 now, and in pre-K, and their little sister is 3; and their parents finally have moments now and again when they can breathe easy and think straight.  So for now, son #4 and his bride are not first in line.  For the past month or so, our middle child, son #3, has taken over that spot.

1986: Son #3, when he was about
 the age his youngest is now, with his dad.

2023: Son #3 as a dad, with his two
youngest children.

On December 12, son #3 and his wife moved into our house with their five children, aged 8, 6, 5, 3, and 9 months, while waiting for the work to be finished on the house they were having built.  They had renters moving into their old house and were going to be homeless for perhaps a week or so.  They hoped to be in their new dream house (their "forever home") in time for Christmas.

Having a house built in 2022...not for the faint of heart!  So many delays.  So many hidden costs.  So many disappointments.  So many issues with their truth-challenged contractor.  It's been a bit of a nightmare for them, financially and every other way you can imagine.  One week stretched into two, then three, then four...

So they've been living with us for over a month now.  Their three big kids are sharing a bedroom (the two girls in a double bed, the oldest boy on an air mattress).  Their mom and dad originally got assigned the other upstairs bedroom, with two twins pushed together and a port-a-crib.  The 3-year-old girl started out in the crib, but eventually started sharing the bed with them.   The baby boy has also been sleeping with one or the other of his parents.  (Be warned, little guy: sleep training in a crib begins at the new house!!)

Over Christmas, our youngest son and his wife were staying in our cozy basement bedroom, which has a queen-sized bed.  But once they moved out after New Years, son #3 moved down there, while his wife stayed upstairs in the room with the twin beds.  They've been juggling the baby and the 3-year old between them ever since.

Not ideal sleeping conditions, but they've been making it work.  (And Papa and Grammy have kept their master suite as a kid-free zone, a sanctuary of peace and quiet.  Because hey, we're old and we've earned it!)

Really, though, this has been a special time for us.  We always knew that our middle son was an amazing, hands-on dad; but getting to see him in this role up close for so long, day in and day out, has been a unique blessing.  He really is something.  He does it all: baths, bedtimes, making lunches for school, cooking breakfast.  He is 100% all-in, sweet with them but not afraid to get tough when the situation calls for it.  We are so proud of the way he has embraced the vocation of fatherhood.  I believe he had the very best role model in my husband, who always thought of himself as a father first.  Airline pilot was just the job he did to keep a roof over all of our heads and food on the table.

Here are some images that tell the story of this hardworking young dad, our beloved son, whom we admire so much. This is typically what I see when I come downstairs at about 6:00 a.m.:

Lunches lined up on the counter, ready to pack
in lunchboxes. (Can you tell he's in the military?)

Eggs frying while little peeps wait.

Isn't he the best?

The light is shining at the end of the tunnel for our boy and his family (or so it seems; we shall see!!).  Two final inspections were failed earlier this week, but there's another one scheduled today.  If they get their certificate of occupancy, they'll be moving out very soon.  Their household goods have already been moved into the new house, so they'll be good to go.  It will be so much better for them to be there.  Our house is about an hour from the kids' Catholic school (and where our son works), so they've  been getting up that much earlier Monday through Friday to make that long morning trip.  I'm sure they'll be thrilled to be in their own place, with their own routines.

And I'm sure that once they're settled in their new house, and all is right with their world, another one of our boys will need us in some way.

Actually, we already have our next help-out planned: we'll be taking a trip to Nashville to meet grandchild #20, the firstborn of our youngest son and his wife.  That happens in about a month or so.  

Life is amazing.  And it moves at lightning speed.  Our baby boy just had his 30th birthday--which means that all five of our boys are in their 30's now!! Yikes!!   (Until our oldest turns 40 in the fall...double yikes!!)  Our youngest son turned the big 3-0, he and his wife just bought and moved into their first house, and they're going to be new parents soon; this is a big year for them, wouldn't you say?

I still can't believe he's 30!

I'm not sure how to end this post, except to say that I am humbled by how blessed a life I've been given.  It's just too good, and too full.  I thank God every day for my strong and loving marriage, for the five exceptional boys He gave us, for the wonderful girls they married, and for the beautiful grandchildren that just keep on coming...it's almost too much to process sometimes.  

And I am eternally grateful that we are still young (ish) and healthy enough to help them out when life throws them curveballs.  Wanting to be there for them as long as possible is what keeps me going to the gym when I'd rather be eating chocolates while reading a good book or watching a Netflix show!*

#boymomforever  #ilovemyboys  #grateful  #blessed  #lovingtheGrammylife

*Full disclosure: I do these things too, more often than I should!

Unsolicited Advice about Marriage

My husband and I are celebrating 42 years of wedded bliss today, so I thought it was a good day to talk about marriage.

The last thing I would ever deign to claim is that I'm an "expert" on anything--even on those vocations to which I've dedicated the majority of my 64-plus years on earth: wife, mother, and homemaker.  I don't pretend to have all the answers, and the last thing I would ever dare to do is give someone unsolicited advice about how to be happy and successful in those areas.

From summer 2016, taken in the yard at Oyster Haven.

I certainly don't know it all.  But as far as marriage goes, I just know what works for my husband and me.  We tied the knot on this date in 1980, and ever since we've enjoyed an extraordinarily happy marriage, with lots of crests and very few troughs; and although we sometimes disagree and might occasionally get a tad too impatient or grumpy when dealing with each other, we have never had a shouting match.  When I say never, I mean NEVER; no screaming and yelling, no throwing plates at each other (does that really ever happen, or is that just in the movies?), no storming away from each other with a slam of the door.  We don’t really even raise our voices at each other--that's just not the way we roll at all.

I believe that the secret to our happy marriage comes down to two simple sentences that my husband and I have uttered countless times over the years.

Me: "You're my hero."

Him: "That's all I've ever wanted to be."

Our words might come off as sappy and saccharine, and not at all serious, to the casual observer (and our funny boys will pretend to vomit if they hear them, because that's how they roll); but we are absolutely sincere when we say them.  He is my hero; he has spent our whole life together striving to be just that.  And I try to let him know how much I appreciate all that he does for me and our family, as often as I can.

We choose to look for only the good in each other, while accepting the flaws (because we all have them, don’t we?); we appreciate the gifts and strengths each of us brings to our union, instead of wasting time criticizing each other’s weaknesses.  We don’t comment on each other’s idiosyncrasies or try to change each other and then get frustrated when we realize we can’t.  We accept each other, and truly like each other.  We “get” each other, and we make each other laugh.  Every day, we try to honor those sacred vows we made back in 1980.  Good times and bad.  Sickness and health.  Richer or poorer.  Til death do us part.  

And every day, in little and big ways, my guy is my hero.

I’m convinced that if more men wanted to be heroes in their wives’ eyes, and more wives appreciated their efforts to do so, there would be a lot fewer divorces.  But maybe that’s just me.

You know, I'm not the best at giving advice.  I can't always find the right words to express what I'm thinking.   But this post by Leila Marie Lawler, over at Like Mother, Like Daughter is a must-read on the subject of marriage and understanding husbands and their unique role in the family.  It is so beautifully written, and gives such tremendously accurate advice on how to be happy in your marriage.  (Adopt the "I'd rather be happy than right" philosophy; it's liberating and leads to peace and contentment!)

Another insightful piece I read on the subject of marriage comes from one of my favorite Catholic writers (and one of the Instagram voices I miss most since deleting my account), Elizabeth Foss, who has a regular column in the Arlington Catholic Herald (our diocesan newspaper in VA).  An article that appeared there in August 2022 was titled, "Marry young?"  This part in particular struck me as profoundly true, and important to remember in this "let's put off marriage (but not necessarily living together) until everything is perfect" world we live in: "The world tells young couples to get all their ducks in a row, to delay until they are secure.  Life has taught me that the ducks never line up neatly and that security is only in faith, never in the tangible, touchable things of this world.  The most seemingly secure job one day can be over the next day.  The healthiest spouse on your wedding day can be battling cancer on your second anniversary.  I lived that story.  You don't get to write the script.  God does.  It's your job to improv along.  Who do you want to do that with and why are you waiting to get started?  Do you doubt that God will give you sufficient grace to do life together within the covenant of a sacramental marriage?  Are you putting limits on what God can do in favor of the security you think the world can offer?"

I'm so glad that my husband and I figured out when we were very young that we wanted to do life--improvising as we went along--together, and that we wanted to get started doing so as soon as we possibly could.  I realize that not everyone is lucky enough to meet the person with whom they will spend their life at 15, and then to be married at 22. But no matter what age you are, when you do meet that right person, don't wait until everything is “perfect” to begin your married life together.  It never will be perfect, for this earthly life is not paradise by a long shot, it’s the proverbial valley of tears; but at least if you take that leap of faith you'll have a partner to share whatever burdens you must carry here.  The main purpose of marriage is to help each other get to Heaven, and things that are really worth doing (and what it more worth doing than that?!) are never easy. 

But it doesn't have to be so hard if you take this unsolicited that advice I said I'd never give (you've been warned!): ladies, marry someone who wants to be your hero. And then make him feel like one. 

In Rome, spring 2019 (an early 40th anniversary trip!  Thank
goodness we thought to take it before the world shut down!).

At Notre Dame, his alma mater, in 2018.

Merry, Merry!

For this Christmas Eve post, I’m going to ignore the stomach bug that’s made an appearance in our over-full house, just in time for Santa’s arrival, and focus on all the merriest moments of the past few days!  And I’m going to remember these wise words from IG influencer extraordinaire Emily Stimpson Chapman:

 

 

See you in 2023! ❤️🎄

Around Our House This Christmas

A week ago, our middle son, his wife, his five children (aged 8 down to 9 months), and his mother-in-law moved in with us.  His mother-in-law has since moved out of the basement guest room, to make room for our youngest son's wife.  This daughter-in-law drove from Nashville and arrived on Saturday, and she'll be joined by her hubby tomorrow night.  He will be flying into DC after finishing up a work project.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to add that on Saturday, our youngest son's two cats also moved into the basement with their mama.  Aside from a giant playroom and a storage area down there, there's a full bath and a cozy guest bedroom.   The cats are living large.

Our middle son and his tribe are not having nearly as comfortable an experience as the kitties, however, as the seven of them are sharing two bedrooms upstairs.  My boy and his wife are sleeping in twin beds, like Rob and Laura Petrie. (Does that reference to The Dick Van Dyke Show expose just how old I am?)  The 3-year-old, who slept in a crib at home, is using our decades-old port-a-crib in the room with her parents.  The baby is still co-sleeping with his mom, so that works out okay.  The oldest child, a boy, is on an air mattress on the floor in the other bedroom, where two of his younger sisters are sharing a full-sized bed.  It's what you would call a full house.

The reason this little family is here is that they are having a house built, and in a perfect world it should have been done by now.  But with all the supply chain issues, weather issues (and to be honest, problems with their contractor), there have been numerous delays.  They are very close to getting a certificate of occupancy, and all of their household goods had to be moved over to the new house a week ago so that they could vacate the house they were living in, because they had renters (who'd had a house fire and lost everything) who needed to move in there ASAP.

Does this sound complicated?  It is.

So our boy's family will be living with us, about 45 minutes from my son's place of employment and about an hour from the three big kids' Catholic school, for an indefinite amount of time; but luckily, Friday was the kids' last day of school until after the New Year.  So at least having to get them fed, dressed, and out of the house by 6:30-6:45 every morning to get them there on time is no longer part of their daily routine.  Their parents are pretty relieved about that.

Needless to say, even if the house gets miraculously finished in the coming days, they will not be settled enough to have things up and running (would they even be able to find their tree?!), so they will be spending Christmas here with us.

I'm thinking this will be my last post until after the holidays, but I thought I'd leave you with a few images of life around our house this Christmas.  It's pretty loud, and it's pretty crazy.  But it's also very sweet.

That last picture is of grandchild #19, our youngest, getting to know his auntie, son #5's wife.  (And she is currently expecting grandchild #20!)

This will probably be a slightly more excitement-filled Christmas morning than we've had in a while.  It should be fun.

Here's wishing you and yours the very merriest of Christmases and the happiest of New Years!  May the peace of Christ be with you during this holiday season and always!  God bless you!