Wonderfulness

Let me get this straight.  I am not a crier.  Ask my family.  Ask my friends. Hubby is the designated crier in our family.  Commercials, movies, news reports, sermons, the sight of his grandchildren, a low balance on our Discover card, you name it - he cries.

Not me.

Nope, hard hearted Hannah this girl.  Years of callous built up on this heart and I can stare down a bully at 2 feet and win.

However.

Lately, I have found a bit of Crying Karma visiting my squishy heart these days.

Lately, I have been known to excuse myself rather than be caught up in the throes of a heavy duty cry.

Why is this?

Hormonal imbalance?  Overdose of real life? 

Who knows.  But I do know that it has knocked me on my keister.  Having no governor on my previous reigned in emotions has made me vulnerable to all sorts of breakdowns of late.

 Hear me clear: I am not sad.  I am not overwhelmed in a negative way necessarily but I am moved to a point lately that I cannot contain all the emotions welling up within me even with my iron will constitution still firmly in place.

 I blame it on grandchildren.
Yep.  That is the start of it and I'm pretty sure the undoing of this previously very controlled lady.

 And it's not just the grandchildren that is the root of all this emotion.  It's their blamed parents.
It is the progeny, the fruit of my loins that has me all in a dither.
It is the realization that these people, that formerly lived in my home 24/7, not to mention my womb for nine months, that has me over the top.

 You pray, you hope, you research, you read, you cajole, you threaten, you yell, you cry (well, some do), you cross your metaphorically speaking fingers and hope to the Dear Lord that  you did something right.

And then, and then, they have children.  They become these people that you love to visit.  These people that make you laugh, make you proud, make you glad that you gave birth to them.  These people are highly functioning, amazingly friendly, witty beyond belief, servants of God.  And it truly has nothing to do with me.

Your children have children.  You visit when it is acceptable for it is not about you.  Never has been.  You watch their family dynamic.  You quietly work around, tiptoeing, not really wanting to disturb the magic that you are observing.  You want to be a fly on the wall but in a helpful way.  You wish that your lackluster memory could contain all the images that you are soaking in:  Daddy comes home from work.  You know that he has worked long and hard and has to be bushed after not getting much sleep because of a newborns sleep habits.  You see his tired face come into the door and in the background you hear this high pitched little voice run toward her daddy enthusiastically,  'Daddy's home! Daddy's home!, arms reaching up. The previously weary employee magically alters into the super hero his little daughter thinks he is. He brightens, and when asked, 'Daddy, you play with me?' agrees to joining her little gathering of stuffed animals and proceeds to voice each little fuzzy buddy with a hilarity that makes me laugh out loud.  Magical stuff.  And this has been  repeated in each of the babymoons that I have participated in with my three producing (so far) children.

Hence the tears.

I am a peripheral observer in these homes.  Sure, I have a place in their hearts.  Sure, I have served my time as their priority, as it should be. My time with them as influence and advisor is over. And they are doing  quite well without my daily input, thank you very much. They have lives and circles of friends and futures in continuing generations.  When Maddox, the little angel I just spent time with, is a mere 20 years old, I shall, Lord Willing, be 80 years old.  Reality Check.  I am quite alright with the fact that I am mortal.  I am quite alright with the idea that my prime has passed and that I shall be peripheral in most things from henceforth.
But the overwhelming emotion I feel when I see, I feel, the amazing joy, in the result of the hopefulness many years ago, well, it gushes out into submissive sobbing at the goodness of our God and how He works.  He took a crazily dysfunctional girl, placed her in the life of just the right boy and what comes forth, can only be credited to our Lord.

I weep for the joy, I weep for the heartache that young people face while raising families, I weep for the pain of challenging situations that only make you stronger but painful to watch.  I weep for all the joys ahead of them; some of them with me in the picture, some of them not.  I weep for their futures, for the depth of the love that they will experience as they add years to their marriages and as they watch their own children please them in the way that they have over the top pleased me.

I weep in my humanity and in God's goodness...

To God be the Glory and He will dry my abundant tears in due time...

Dawn of a New Day

Whew.
Now that was some crazy three months.
In that time:
1.  Started working in retail part time. (After a 34 year hiatus.  Hmm.)
2.  Hubby retired.
3.  Hubby started new job with 180 degree shift from last job.
4.  Dealt with some health issues.  Resolved, btw.
5.  Welcomed grandgirl # 5 into the mix.
6. Celebrated 40 years together.
7. Prepared Christmas for our turn with all the spawn and their people.  And a dog.
8. Welcomed all 14 of us together in our square footage.
9. Made merry on many different levels with the giddiness of having all my babies under my roof.  A rare occurrence these days.
10.  Prepared meals, did dishes, washed clothes, made sure all the grandgirls were entertained and smiled the whole time in Mimi Delight.  (yes, I did, really...ask em.)
11.  Prepared for the weakest blizzard evah (yes, I am from northern Illlinois; we giggle at the weather that was labeled blizzard.)  Still, it had it's danger so we said good bye early to several of our people, making sure that they were safe instead of present.
12.  Celebrated the Big Two with Lil Lady two days after Christmas.
13.  Welcomed the new year with a precious 7 week old.
14.  Slowly bid them all goodbye and sighed a lot.

Today was the first day in many weeks that I have breathed deeply once again.
I was off work, cleaned like a maniac, put away all the final vestiges of Christmas, downloaded all the new photos from My New Camera (anniversary gift from Hubby!), folded bedding from all the visitors and put away for the next visits, and cooked my Hubby a nice hot dinner, just for the two of us.

I realized early today that my life has taken quite a different direction and I kinda like it.
I like that I am working again.
I like that I have a new, different type of family, 'a work family'.  Haven't had that in a while.
I like that Hubby works nearby now and comes home for lunch and is home for supper on time.
I like that my work schedule allows me  time in my sewing room.
I like that my kids are producing like rabbits.
I like that I have reached the stage of life where I care so little for the buggery things of life and embrace the important things with gusto.
I like that my hair is getting long.  Weird.
I like that if I don't get to walk, write and sew, I get twitchy.  I like that my people recognize that about me.
I like that I am bound by very little and that little is of little burden.

I like this stage of life.....
Ahh.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I was not a sweet mother.

I was not the smiling all the time, milquetoast type of mama.

I meant business and ruled with a hard fist.

Make no mistake - I adored my little children but I could not afford to let them slip through their childhood without understanding that authority is a fact of life and who better to learn it from than mama.

I slathered love upon them and affection was freely applied but underneath it all, they knew that I had expectations that they needed to meet in order to become good friends, worthy citizens and adored spouses.

I believe that I have finally discovered what the core of my mothering, the heart of my teaching, was for my four little ones:

 Respect. 

We learned that a person's space, belongings, beliefs all needed to be treated with respect.  If they hit or damaged another person or thing, the weight of understanding the disrespect that came from that, was full of implications and responsibilities.  If they complained or had an attitude that was inappropriate for the circumstances, they were taught that was disrespectful to the One that designed them.  If they disrespected laws, ours or the states, there was a tangible price to pay.  For instance: a son's first speeding ticket brought him 7 hours hard labor of scraping and priming a needy garage, a hated, hot job.  If another's toy was broken, hard earned money from their own account was used to pay for a replacement along with an apology.  Not taking care of clothing or rooms amounted to disrespect to their father who worked hard to provide what they had.

 A big hit(!) with the children was the Confiscation Bag.  This idea originated with my third pregnancy. My burgeoning body kept me from picking up all the blocks, Legos, Barbie shoes, G.I Joe equipment, He-Man and Skeletor's swords, so after countless reminders, I set out to teach a lesson that worked wonders.  When the time came to sweep and pick up, I would announce loudly that I was Confiscation Bag bound.  If there were any child like item in my bedroom, if there was any item left on the floor, if there were clothes left unattended, it got 'confiscated' to a very large brown grocery sack.  If the item became needed, then a cost was given for the redemption.  I can clearly remember needed socks on a Sunday morning that would have to be paid for from their allowance or earnings that were hard earned.  I can hear you say, 'Ha!  You gave them the allowance anyway!  They don't lose!' Ha, I respond!  Our kids were expected to pay for their own clothes and shoes and toys. Since they invested in them, they knew how much they cost and how important to them to take care of all of it.  I can still picture one small son faithfully polishing the shoes that HE bought out of his own account. They received a goodly sum but there was expectations from that sum. Gifts for friends and toys they wanted came from this allowance.  If they accepted yard sale clothing or consignment clothing, then we would pay for that.  We purchased dance costumes for recitals and classes.  We bought ball team uniforms.  We paid for equipment because we knew that someone else was holding them to a standard or excellence with the wearing/using of said equipment.  I would remind them that misusing the privilege of being a part of a team was a disrespect to the organization and the people that spent a great deal of time in the sharing of their talent.  

Often, after a grocery run, I would gather the children if front of the very full refrigerator and tell them that indeed, it is a privilege to be able to feast our eyes on a full refrigerator.  That it was a gift from God and we were not to misuse it.  We were not to complain about the food that we were given; we were to try new tastes and not complain or make faces if they did not agree.  They did not have to eat something that they didn't like but they certainly were not to be rude in their negative response; they were simply to say, 'I don't care for this but thank you anyway.' Then they were invited to prepare a PBJ for themselves for dinner.

   

Once, one of our teenage children told me, while cuddling with me in my bed, 'I think I want to take up smoking'.  I was caressing her long hair and without missing a beat, I informed her that while I appreciated her telling me, smoking with asthma could be a nasty thing.  In typical 15 year old response, she nodded with her head but not her heart.  True to her word, she continued in her pursuit till the dastardly day when she was  caught by her strict fundamental school, whose rules clearly stated that cigarette smoking would equal dismissal.  I pointed this out to her when she enrolled and she proclaimed it bullocks.  I further pointed out that the reason that was given was that God has given us our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit and should not be defiled.  Long story short, she was expelled, the principal called with the bad news and when I told him that I was aware that she was considering this habit and the ramifications of such, so just send her home.  Trust me when I say that the LAST thing this rebellion bent 15 year old had in mind was to be home-schooled with her two youngest siblings!  The pain and suffering that she put herself through over this very bad ending to what sounded like a fun thing, was almost painful to watch.  But I did.  Later, when the habit continued (of course), and I caught her hanging out her bedroom window, blowing smoke, I let her know that no longer would we buy her asthmatic inhaler.  The End.  Left it at that and once her hard earned money went to expensive asthma medicine, she learned  No yelling, no wailing at what we did wrong, no threats of terror, simple natural, retribution to the disrespect to her body and her authorities.

Wasn't all this investment in time and follow thru hard and time consuming?

You're damn right it was!  Hardest thing in the world to stand strong with the wrap of love time after time.

But eventually, it gets easier.  It gets more self explanatory as they get older.  They come to the conclusions on their own and start to see the results of bad choices sooner.  The time invested when they were very young and consistently insisting on respect in all areas, is very satisfying as they age.

The reaping of the harvest, as it were.

So it is with a great deal of parental satisfaction, a great deal of thanksgiving from the Father who instructed and led me and a great deal of joy that I share this important message in light of the weekend that I just experienced.

Watching your adult children, now parents themselves, handle their life situations, their parental responsibilities, their spousal needs, their spiritual feeding,  their civic duties with a great deal of respect and humble service, makes all the quiet, inward tears and painful observations of lessons hard learned, all worth while.

I praise God for the strength to have ridden these children hard, to expect much from them for they had been given much.

I am so thankful for the adults my children have become.  I am pleased that this world is blessed by them.  I am humbled by their wisdom and joy.  

Now, I can be their friend.  Now I can spoil them indulgently.  Now I can enjoy their spunky spirit and raucous, fun personalities.  Now I can go to my reward with the peace that comes from no regrets and a job well done.

May you be strengthened daily (hourly, minutely, secondly)  by the power of God as you parent.  And may you delight in the outcome....

The Merry Month of May

Since last August, I knew that this May was in reserve.  I knew that my 'schedule' would be put on hold and that any and all activities would be paused as I helped Eldest/Admin prepare for the life changing event of having her second child.  I remember all too well that overwhelming feeling of having a toddler and bringing a brand spanking new little one into the mix.  I remember with fear and trepidation as my due date approached, looking for an out to the situation.  As God would have it, I found myself wonderfully overdue and having two extra weeks to work out my issues; I was then,more than ready to welcome our second child.  As God would work it, that is what happened to E/A.  

(pictured: The Labor Trail, where we walked every night and some mornings...)

 As I packed and prepared for my trip to her home, I wondered with an overload of adrenalin, just what do I do for her?  What is my exact position in bringing Grandgirl #Four into the world?  How do I work with a completely natural birth when my only experience has been on my back in a surgical suite?  How do I best serve her and her family?  Just what is my job?  Do I draw close or keep hidden with toddler close to my hip?  These questions were the first thing I thought of when I woke up each morning and the last thought before I shut my eyes each night.  I wanted to be the helper that she needed but I didn't have a clue as to what that would look like.
Turns out that God in His infinite wisdom, gave both of us puh-lenty  of time to figure out how we would get through this thing called Bringing a Human Being Into This World.


Hazey Jay (her daddy's nickname) aka, Hazel Jane, had her own agenda and plan for her debut.  HJ's arrival date was May 1.  Her birthday is May 12.  Eleven full days to make peace with the wait and surround her home with the right amount of busy-ness and rest.  Eleven days to wrestle with issues and make pillows for her bed.  Eleven days to have fun with her sister, the illustrious Miss Viv, and Eleven Days to make all the teeny final touches on her sweet little room.  Eleven Days for her mama to walk, dance, bounce, walk and rest for The Big Event.

 This time will heretofore be remembered as The Golden Time.


I shall remember this time my whole life.  Even when my memory gets iffy, I shall relish the days that E/A and I spent together, along with Miss Viv and Wonderful Man. I just know I will.

 There were long talks, good meals, sewing on the deck, visiting with neighbors, evening walks, wonderful weather and always this tiny thread of anticipation as each pre labor contraction and little twinge, propelled us(me)  into Level Yellow on the Baby Alert warning system.  Miss Viv was more than willing to help Mimi take her mind off the reality of her baby having another baby by lots of swinging on her playset, jumping on Neighbor Steve's trampoline,hosting tea parties, reading books, playing pretend and lots of making up stories on the swing.

 I loved watching the peaceful repose that I would find on my eldest daughter's face as she would caress her burgeoning belly . 

 I loved watching the inner conversations she would have with her body and spirit as it was stretched to max. Silent yet powerful, I could feel the strength that she was summoning from the recesses of her soul as her body prepared for the most profound of moments.

 One lovely Friday evening, after Papa had arrived and the night was settling in, a long walk started the process that would culminate in Miss Hazel Jane's arrival 24 hours later.


It was a privilege to be a part of those sacred hours.  To watch WM step up and step into the supportive, strength giving, encourager that makes for a wonderful husband and places himself right up there in the running for Father of the Year.  It is every parent's dream to see their daughters so tenderly, protectively cared for by their husbands.  


The time frame from laboring at home to laboring at the hospital, happened quietly throughout the night so that Miss Viv barely knew that the Big Event was happening.  The afternoon and evening that Mimi and Papa watched over the Big Sister, consisted of fun and frivolity involving hungry ducks and fun filled parks.  Make no mistake; Miss Viv is but a mere three years old, but her thoughts were staying near to her laboring mama and her absent daddy.  Complete strangers were told, unbidden, that 'her mommy was in the hospital, pushing her baby sister out.'.  She could be involved in the funnest of play but her mind and heart were in that unfamiliar spot; Her Life Was Radically Changing And She Knew It Involved Pushing a Baby Out.


Papa's job was to keep her safe on the playground and to attend to her needs while Mimi's job was to park herself on a bench nearby and intercede on her daughter's behalf, the needs known only to her Maker.


As the three of us settled in for the night, The phone call came:  Hazel Jane had joined our family in a completely natural, healthy way, just like her mama hoped and prayed....


The next morning consisted of preparing for our trip to the hospital to see Baby Hazel.
Reporting the scene at the hospital, little girls meeting each other for the first time, is pretty much beyond my expertise.  Suffice to say, in all my years, I have not witnessed a sweeter scene....


Baby Hazel and her parental units arrived at their home close to midnight that same night.  With Miss Viv asleep and my mind running through so many things, I opted to keep reading my book and allow HJ to settle into her home with her mama and daddy without my assistance.  I fell asleep with the sweetest little face on my mind...


The first words out of Miss Viv's mouth the next morning were, 'Is my Baby Sister home?' After receiving the affirmative, she zoomed into mama and daddy's room to greet her new sibling.


Shortly after breakfast, Mimi and Papa left the sweet, happy, exhausted little family to their own devices while they adjusted to their new normal on their Babymoon.  I knew that after daddy returned to work, I would return to get acquainted.  But for now, it was important for the four of them to have time together to cement the bond that had been forged nine months previous.


By the end of the first week on Babymoon, the siblings arrived, thus bringing the quartet of little girlies together for the first time.  Since I was not present, I can only go by the reporting of Neighbor Deb as to the wonderfulness of the viewing; three of my sweeties, three spouses and four of the most dazzling granddaughters ever, hanging out and sharing their lives.  I do believe I would have combusted had I been in attendance.

So, as the earth erupts in blossoms and summer is a whisper away, our family celebrates our newest arrival....A wondrous time, a glorious memory...




Welcome, welcome Hazel Jane...We have waited for you a long time......

When the Chickies Come Home to Roost

Most times, I have accepted that having the privilege of having my grown up babies nearby, close or neighborly, is just a dream.  But every now and then, we all get the moment, the day, the, dare I say it: A Span of Days, where we all get to breathe the same air, be under the same roof, share a table.

This type of gift is a rare blessing and is fodder of a multitude of pre event texts, regaling the wonders of all of us being able to Be Together.

I Homeschooled my children for eleven+ years.  They were with me day and night, in season and out of season for most of their time in our home.  I clucked and supervised and nosed around their lives, welcomed or not, for as long as they lived under our roof.  Not quite a Hovering Mom, but certainly 'involved'.

But.

Once they flew the coop, that was it.  I let them fly and roam and pursue their lives, loves and interest with barely a phone call.  Honest.  Ask them.  Barely call, usually text, email or Facebook.  We visit when we can but normally, we wait to be invited, wait for them to call when it is convenient and thoroughly enjoy our time with them when it all lines up.  I rationalized that if I was vigilant when they were under my care, then once they left, I would have little to say about the goings on in their Adult Lives.

I make no opinions unless called upon and even then, I make it short and sweet.

They are, after all, adults. Always my babies, but also their own selves with their very own lives and I shall not butt in.

So.

When they come home, I rejoice.  I plan and plot and dream of what to feed them, what to entertain them with, how can I squeeze out the time we have together to its maximum potential, so that when they leave to their individual lives, I have the memories and the grand satisfaction of dropping in on their lives for a fragment of time.

This past month, I have squirreled away recipes, reviewed old favorites, cleaned like the Queen is coming for a visit, made sleeping arrangements to suit all our New Members (ie. grandgirls!) and in general, bask in the wonder of who my children are.

So as I make my yeast rolls and freeze them for the day, as I cook the cushaw for the pie that I so enjoy, as I procure a boneless turkey breast for the amazing Stuffed Turkey Breast recipe that was such a hit last year, as I stump the cashier at the amount of rutabagas purchased for the Root Vegetable Gratinata with Cream and Fontina, as I search for the hidden frozen gooseberries purchased at the Farmer's Market just for this week, as I finish sewing projects to gift them, my heart is indeed full.

And quite honestly, with Guests like these two lovely girlies, wouldn't you be.....?

Whether  your home hosts one or the thirteen or fourteen that shall be upon us, enjoy them, tell them you are proud of them and always rejoice......

The Happiest of Thanksgiving to you...

Phenomenon

 I have had the wonderful privilege to be invited to my grown up children's grown up homes to share the first weeks of their firstborn's life.
This is something I do not take lightly.
I understand that being allowed in the sacred air of the welcoming of a new human into a couple's life, is not something to impair, invade or opinionate.  I seek to be a help and not a hindrance to the process of welcoming the New Person.
These unforgettable times so imprint upon my soul that I can barely speak when I journey home.  Hubby has come to recognize the unmistakable signs of my overwhelming joy/sadness that comes upon me as I process and download all that I have experienced on these Mimi Journeys.  There is a silence that rarely afflicts me as my mind scurries around trying to put all the input that has been experienced into places that have never been before.

 Watching the adult child perform as the loving, caring, sacrificial person you always hoped and prayed would be there amidst their selfish little childish selves, fills ones soul with such gratitude and peace that I become too touched to respond. Words of affirmation are pitiful in light of the crazy thankfulness that the heart feels.

It is one thing to know that your child is a responsible adult.  It is quite another to see their day to day in light of another person in their life that is their life and then, oh then, there is the amazing transformation that takes each of them from loving spouse to the viciously protective, sacrificially caring , copiously loving parent.  Many times, I want to almost turn away, the union and emotion is so raw and intimate amongst this new partnership.


And to think, I was invited to be a part of it all.....Three times.  Blessed beyond description....


Thank you Dear Children, for being beyond what I could have ever dreamed for you....

Summer Visit

Summer visits are a different breed from other seasons.  Winter visits are cozy and close.  You tend to gather, grab a quilt and settle in for a spell.  Summer visits are breezy.  You tend to come and go, inside and out, walk around, sit and perch, then up and exploring.

Baby Girl and Her Hubby stopped by on the way to their Camping Adventure with Her Hubby's Fam for the Fourth.  We were to be a Luncheon Stop, a quick 'You Gotta See How Big I'm Getting or You Won't Believe It' stop.  And like all the visits, luncheon or pregnant bellies otherwise, I cook and clean like the Queen Mother has scheduled a trip here.  Why is that?  These children have seen me and my house at it's worst.  They know my Visitors Tricks and Hospitality Preparations.  Who do I think that I'm fooling?  They know that my house does not always look company ready.  Nevertheless, I putter and adjust and put away things, excitedly anticipating my grown up time with them.  Just so you Young Mama's know, this is the piece de resistance, the thing you look forward to on the Hard Day's of mommying.  And it is glorious.  Worth all the diapers and short nights.  Worth the frustration and craziness. Visits with your Adult children.  Bliss.

And how sweet is this moment, captured quickly before Her Hubby and his quick ways, moved on to another activity? I believe I shall tear up each time I see this.  Another Goal:  Adult Children finding their soul mates; their completers; their life sharers.  Grand.

And a day pleasant enough, physically as well as meteorologically, for the Hubby to venture out, albeit with foot propped up.  For a visit with his Adult Children, he would have crawled out to the porch.  Lovely, lovely weather; true Porch Day.

Baby Girl's Hubby is a reflector, a thinker, a Busy Boy.  I had given him my copy of Mary Jane's Farms, full knowing that he would take it all in and ruminate...a long time....Here he is after perusing the whole magazine.  Do you know that his current cause is to become Cell Phoneless?  The closer to the soil he becomes, the happier he will be.  The less reliant on corporations, the more content his life.  We shall see.  Do not bring this up with His Wife.

Perhaps you cannot see her, but Stella the Ditzycat is taking full advantage of the Brilliant Day as well.  She has proclaimed the pergola as her domain and was ever so glad that Editor Friend donated her well used wicker to the Pergola Branch of the Endless Wicker Collection.  Not only do I love it but Stella has comfied in for the summer.  Good spot, Stel, ol girl.  Should we rethink her ditsy status?

Summer visits also leave room for chores during visits.  I don't think during the winter that I would excuse myself to care for laundry, but in the summer, I think nothing of making an exit to utilize the day's solar drying.  Surely, BGH would not complain.  The cerulean blues and bright grass greens will stay in my brain till way into winter......

Summer Visits.....intoxicating and refreshing.....

Fabulous Fun on the Fourth

There were no National or State Parks involved.  Only one restaurant. No Big Fireworks Displays even.  Just us.  Just our family crammed merrily into Eldest Son and Lovely Wife's cozy bungalow.  Youngest Son pinched us in between work even though it took a bit of a drive.  Rousing games of Funglish (You Must Play This.  Especially with LW and Pretend Granddaughter Sara) and a yummy grilled burrito provided by LW and PGS, took place on YS's shift there.  Talking on the patio till way dark.  Nice fire in the fire pit, inspiring more talk.  Late sleep ins.  Worship at ES and LW's Redemption Hill Church plant, attend McAlisters Patio and meet the Happy Campers from Patoka Lake, Baby Girl and her Cell Phoneless Hubby and their In Utero Infant.  Sit for a long while, sipping tea and swapping stories.  Then off to ES/LW's for a long day of games, gabbing and lots and lots of laughing.  Hubby and I took over supper that night while the 'youth' played.  As is the habit, ES made up some rousing games including his Baby Bro In Law, his partner in crime.  The two of them ran and played in the torrid sun and heat, then, like all sweaty boys, got out the hose and had fun with that as well.  CPH stripped of his sweaty clothes and for only reasons known to CPH, they ended up on top of his car, undies and all.  In their place came borrowed ES orange trunks, just to add some snazziness to the scenario.  Sorry neighbors.  You cannot take us anywhere.  Baby Girl, CPH and ES managed to put on an amazing Fireworks Display with a minimum of fire power.  ES and CPH dazzled us with the artistic displays with five boxes of sparklers.  Then BG in her hormonal, pregnant, unpredictable way, entertained us with five boxes of little pop its.  She punctuated her conversation and our rousing rendition of America the Beautiful with the snap it's gunpowder.  Completely entertained and entertaining, we let her use all the boxes at her discretion.  Would YOU have taken them from her?  Games of badminton, jarts, Dollar General lacrosse and lots of baseball throwing and baseball hitting, went on the whole day and into the evening.  LW impressed us greatly with her dozen or so hits in a row.  We defy anyone from making fun of her sports skills from now on.  Frozen Novelties were shared on the patio after our healthy light dinner. Finally, we took our sweaty, hard playing bodies inside for showers and some indoor relaxing.  Too soon, The Sandman began to visit and the day of Hard Playing and Celebrating sent us to our beddy byes. Sleeping in the next morning was lovely as was the breakfast and lunch that we grazed on as our ongoing conversations continued on......Time came for us to depart to our own homes and goodbyes and hugs went all around.

Till the next gathering, may God keep all  you blessed children...We ever so love having such fun, loving, responsible, silly, witty, intelligent adult children.  What an amazing blessing......Thank you Lord. And Happy Birthday America.  We loved your party.