Elf on the Shelf

Am I the only mom out there who didn't know about the Elf on the Shelf? If you don't know about him, consider yourself lucky. He totally and completely freaks me out! And he's got to be um, unsure of his sexual identity --- pixie!! Hehe.
Right now the children are deciding on his name. Maybe by the time I'm finished with this post, I will be able to tell you his (her?) name. Apparently he's a phenomenon that swept the nation last year. But somehow I managed to go the entire Christmas season without knowing anything about him. My children are so deprived. So for those of you don't know, he is supposed to watch the children's behavior each day and report it to Santa each night. Each morning, upon returning from the North Pole, he magically appears in a new spot in the house. And the children can't touch him. And he does naughty stuff at night while they're asleep. I only know this part because my children have been telling me what he has done at their friend's houses. I know that he writes on windows with lipstick, writes in the yard with flour, rolls the Christmas tree with toilet paper, etc.

We have a name. Drum roll please..."Mark." There were lots of choices out there - Matthew Stafford, AJ, Jake, Josh, Drake, Georgia. But the children asked their dad and he said, "How about Mark?" And just like that, his name is Mark. How clever.


There is something about this elf that seems vaguely familiar. Mimi, did we have one of these when we were little?

So if you don't have an Elf on the Shelf, you may want to get one. I bought mine at Spots and Dots toy store in Brookwood Mall in Birmingham. Check them out. They may even have them at MAE's doll store in Crestline. ( By the way, my sweet little sister owns both of these fabulous toy stores! )

Also, if you have any great ideas about what the Elf can do when he returns from the North Pole, please let me know!!

CORRECTION: Mimi bought the Elf on the Shelf at Spots and Dots in Brookwood Mall. I'm afraid to go to B'ham in case she deicdes to put me on restriction or switch my legs for leaving her out! Read comment!! Yikes! Thak you, Mimi, for buying the Elf on the Shelf for the kids. They love him. KK has already gone up to him to tell him what Sunshine did to her! She's going to love this! Someone to tattle to who will actually listen! I'm going to love this. Instead of "talk to the hand", I'll say "Tell the Elf!" Maybe I'll keep him out all year long.

So much to be thankful for...

Of course that is a posed picture...but still!

Saturday we went to the Georgia vs Auburn Ga. And boy was it fun to win against Auburn! The score was 17 to 13. The boys were not there they were at the house letting us have a GNO!{Girls night out!}Now here are some pictures..................
POSTED BY AAA

You are going to be so jealous...

Look at what I got to snuggle with today!

Meet Lucy, my neice. She's very, very smart.
And the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Lucy was taking it all in. Her little eyes were very alert for a day old baby. She ever so slowly turned her fat little neck from one side to the other. Her eyes would shift gently. She'd yawn. She'd hiccup. She'd sneeze. She'd root. She'd find her hands and clasp them together. She'd stretch her toes...I could have eaten her up! Her hair curled up right above her ear. It stuck out just a very tiny bit. When she sucked, I think I saw a dimple in her right cheek. And she already knows her ABC's. (It runs in the family).

As I drove back from Birmingham this afternoon, I reflected on the almost magnetic pull that suddenly propelled me out of bed this morning. I couldn't get to Birmingham fast enough. The morning was almost reminiscent of a Sunday morning. I was rushing the kids, putting on mascara in the car, grabbing a pair of socks for Sunshine while yelling we'd put her shoes on in the car. You get the idea.

But you can clearly see from the pictures above why I was so eager to get on the road and get out of town.I knew there was a little girl waiting on me. And a bigger little girl, my little sister, waiting to show her off.

On my drive home,I experienced a keen awareness of the bond that sisters share. It is something that can't be replaced, manufactured, or even described accurately. It's not a friendship, which can come and go as often as the tide comes in. It's not a romance, which can sometimes suddenly end and both parties move on. It's something much more profound, more permanent, more secure.

It's one of the few things that can get a person out of bed at the crack of dawn and send them speeding down the highway to the hospital where her sister is waiting in her hospital bed with a newborn baby in her arms. It's beautiful. And so is Lucy!

Love, Aunt Tiffy

I'm pretty sure Lionel Richie didn't go to church...

"Easy like Sunday Morning"???? Well if that isn't an oxymoron...

What's easy about Sunday morning?! Like I said, I'm pretty sure Lionel Richie didn't go to church.

Let's take this morning, for example. AAA was easy, as always. But she's about the only one. (Although this morning, we locked the front door, started the car, and then looked around and realized that we had locked AAA in the house. ) Little Man can't stand his church shoes, but I insists that he wear them because they cost more than my shoes. So we start off, like we do every Sunday morning, arguing about his shoes. Guess who won? (Me). Sunshine is easy, except for the fact that she takes a fork and rakes them across her tights and creates a hole the size of my fist. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the hole until we were already church. Her daddy decided to TAPE the hole together. I'm not sure which was worse - the hole or the hole with tape on it. And KitKAt...well, where should I start? Should I just start with her suggesting that she couldn't carry her plate from the table to the sink because "it's too heavy." Or should I start with her complaining about her tights that itch her (along with her shirt and dress)?! Or when I suggested that we brush her hair and she insists that it has already been brushed. Or when we try to brush her teeth and she refuses to open her mouth because she's afraid that I'll brush her loose teeth? Or when she refuses to eat because she's afraid her loose teeth will fall out? Like I said... ain't nothin' easy about Sunday morning! I'm usually in a mood by the time we make it to the car. Everyone knows it. Typically they stay out of the way. But M had the nerve to say - on the way out of the door - "You sure do wait to the last minute." Is he crazy? Don't say that to mama on the way out of the door. Even the kids know better.

I'm just glad we get to go to church on Sunday mornings to ask God to forgive us for all of the sins we've committed on Sunday morning. Poor M, he has to ask God AND me to forgive him!

P.S. KitKat has a REALLY cute dress on under that blue jean jacket!

Sweet Virginia

About two years, the children and I were at McDonald's during lunch while the kids played on the play place. I met the most delightful lady there. Her name was Virginia and she was the McDonald's custodian. It was a particularly windy day and the napkins and trash were blowing everywhere. I was in constant motion trying to race after cheeseburger wrappers and napkins! Sweet Virgina kept telling me to sit down and enjoy my children. She insisted that it was her job to throw away my trash. I was completely caught off guard. I mean, this was McDonald's...not Ruth's Chris. She was so precious and the more we talked the more I liked her. At the time, she had long gray and black dreadlocks with seashells at the end of each "lock". Her hair made an impression on me. I don't think I had ever seen an older lady with dread locks. And they were really pretty. She kept telling me to enjoy my children and enjoy these days with my children and to seek God's guidance in raising them. I'm not just saying this now...but at the time I really felt like our meeting was part of a bigger plan. I was in need of a housekeeper, so we exchanged phone numbers. She explained that she had just started working at McDonald's and that she was working there 40 hours a week, so she didn't think she would be calling me. She left such an impression on me that when M came home that afternoon, I told him about the lovely lady that I had met at McDonald's. Two or three weeks passed and I still had not heard from her, although she crossed my mind several times during that 2 to 3 week period. Finally, about a month later, she called and said she'd like to quit her McD's job. She started cleaning the house, but she was VERY slow. She's spend all day here, and we'd talk most of the time. She was very open and honest about her life and her past. Tears would flow easily as she talked about her children.

Virginia had lived in Chicago most of her adult life, where she had raised five children. Her children had the same father, but she never married him. He had been married to someone else all those years. The father was "way high up" in a drug ring in Chicago. About two years prior to Virginia's move to Alabama, one of the other rival drug rings in Chicago put out a "hit" on one Of Virgina's daughters. She was killed. Virgina decided at that time that she was going to follow her pastor to Alabama and try to start a new life. She knew that as long as she was in Chicago, her children would remain in Chicago and within the drug-ring. So she left and prayed that her family would follow. There was no other way out.

Shortly after Virgina and I became friends, she called crying one day and explained that one of her granddaughters, who was 19, had two little girls, ages 2 and 3. The little girls were left alone on July 4th and one of the neighbors found them in the street eating out of a garbage can. Apparently, the neighbor called Virginia's son, who in turn called Virginia. Virginia was devastated. She saved her money and flew to Chicago to get the children. Their mom gave the girls to Virginia, along with a cardboard box that had 2 pair of jeans and a denim jacket in it.

When Virginia returned to Alabama with those two girls, I fell in love immediately. You can see from the picture how adorable they are. And much sweeter than I had imagined. Virginia's prayer was that she would do better with her 3rd and 4th generations than she had with her 1st and 2nd.

To be continued...

Seriously?

I just read a friend's blog that prompted me to steal her blog subject and use it as my own. Her question that she put out there was,"So what's the hardest part to you, of being a woman?" If you are a man, you may want to quit reading now. If you are a woman, join me! Let's see...where should we start? With child birth? Or maybe pregnancy? Which part of pregnancy? The weight gain? Or the morning sickness (some man coined the phrase "Morning sickness"...we know it's 24/7)? Remembering everyones birth dates, birth weights, social security numbers, shoe sizes, and food preferences (NewsFlash: Burger King now has a Kraft mac and cheese kids meal...thank you,God)? The never-ending carpool lines (while you're sitting on empty and have been all day)?
Or is it the constant interruptions "Mom, come wipe me. Mom. I didn't get any apple juice. Mom, can you come pour me some milk? Mom, you forgot to tuck me in. Mom, can you put my hair in a pony tail? Mom, where are my soccer cleats? I can't find my tennis shoes. Mom, we didn't read for 30 minutes. Mom, you forgot to test me on my spelling words. Mom, don't forget you said you'd help with the ice cream party at school tomorrow. Mom, can we go buy me some new jeans - these are too tight."

Okay I'll calm down. I just got a little carried away.

Or is it the gutt-wrenching conversations you have to have with your 8 year old little girl about why so-and-so was mean today. And you tell them that the first thing we're going to do is forgive them. Then we're going to pray for them. Then we're going to do something nice for them. How can I expect my eight year old to do this when I can't do it myself? I can't tell her that what I really want to do is call her momma right now and tell her to beat her little girl for making mine cry!

Or is it the NEVER-Ending cycle of laundry, making beds, cleaning bathrooms, and cooking dinner?! And I mean NEVER ENDING!

Or is is that you ask your 4 year old for just one bite of her Reese's peanut butter cup and she puts the whole thing in her mouth and you think to yourself,"Well never mind that I've cooked you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, wiped your bottom twice today, brushed your teeth, made your bed, kissed your boo-boo, and washed your hair."? I just wanted a little bite of that chocolate and you get teary-eyed just thinking about how great that would have tasted.

Or is it that you have to hide in your closet to eat your OWN Reese's peanut butter cup so that you won't have to share?

Or is it just the task of remembering every little thing for every little body in your family?
AA asked me today when her next dentist appointment was. I just looked at her and said, "The day after they give me the reminder call." Same way for my hair cut appointment. And any other appointment. If I don't get a reminder call, I don't even feel guilty for being a "no-show". Which also reminds me, I can't get my hair cut at "Envision" because I was a "no-show" twice in a row, and as my friend told me, "Delana doesn't do no-shows." uh-oh!

Or is it simply not losing the mail on your way from the mailbox to the kitchen? I recently vowed to not check the mail anymore. Well let me clarify - I do check the mail. I get mine out and leave M's in the mailbox. You can't imagine the number of fights this has saved us. He could not understand how I could lose the mail on the way from the mailbox to the front door. He'd come home every day and ask,"Did you check the mail?" I honestly had no idea. "I don't know if I did or not", I'd reply. "Okay, well if you did (check it) where would it be?" , he 'd ask. "I have no idea. It might be in the car still... if I checked it while I was in the car.", I would reply. So my solution...he can check his own mail. It really works for us. I'm all about whatever it takes to make it work.

So I'm curious...what do you think is the hardest part of being a woman?

Thanking God today for giving me the hardest and the most amazing job in the world...mommy duty! I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Day Off!

Live, Laugh, Love

The past couple of weeks have been rather emotional for me. As I sit back now and reflect on them, I thought I'd share with you just a little bit of what I have learned. The timing of the events in my life during the past couple of weeks is all His. I know He's trying to get my attention. Some of the things that have happened are too personal to share in the blogosphere, but I'll attempt to share as much as I can.

A few weeks ago I was contacted via Facebook by a friend from high school and college. Apparently he had something to ask me. Basically the question was, "Why did you stand me up 15 years ago?" It's bugged him all these years and he wanted an answer so he could quit wondering about it. He had made amends with several important people in his life prior to their deaths. At his 20th high school reunion, he was looking forward to seeing one other guy in particular, to apologize to him for having been mean to him during high school, and to congratulate him on his success as an adult. As it turns out, the guy he was looking for had been killed. So my friend wasn't able to make amends with him.
I was touched by this story and began to realize that there are a few people out there I need to make amends with. I saw one of them the very day that I had resolved to contact her. She doesn't even live in this town! I hadn't seen her in over 2 years. But there she was! At Hasting's. I was in line and she was in the little closed-in section out front. I asked the lady in line to hold my place, then I knocked on the glass and waved to my friend as I held up one finger for her to hang on one minute. It was so great to see her smiling face. She has suffered through a terrible divorce and an even worse dating relationship following her divorce. During all of that time, I kept my distance from her. I apologized to her for being such a bad friend during all of this. She smiled and said, "I'm just glad you're telling me now." She's precious.

At the very same time that all of this is going on, I had another friend on my mind whom I felt like I needed to call. That very day she contacted me via Facebook. She was my very best friend from high school, my college roommate, and my matron of honor in my wedding. I had not spoken to her in 2 years. She had done something that I had judged as wrong, and the relationship ended. I called her last week and heard a broken, remorseful soul on the other end of the line. My heart ached for her. Her life had literally been turned upside down because of a decision that she had made duing an 8 week span of time. I had no idea. She could have used a friend. I wasn't there. While her decision 2 years ago wasn't at all about me, I still took it personally and felt so betrayed. I apologized to her. SHE apologized to ME. I missed my friend. While the conversation was a bit awkward, it quickly felt just as comfortable and easy as it had always been.

During all of this, my granddad turned 95. I had decided that I would be unable to attend his birthday party because it was "Soccer Tournament Weekend" for AA and Little Man. I woke up on the morning of his birthday and began blogging about him. I realized right then and there, that I was going to Mobile...I was going to his birthday party! How could I not!?! M stayed with AA and Little Man and they made it to their games. Sunshine, KitKAt and I made a road trip. I wouldn't trade it for anything!

So what is my point in all of this? Why am I telling you all of this? I've wasted two years feeling betrayed by a friend who really needed me as a friend. I almost missed my Grandaddy's 95th Birthday Party so I could go to the 200th soccer game of the season. I abandoned a friend during her divorce because I didn't know what to say. ...I just want to encourage you to make amends, forgive, love, be a better friend.

Thanking God today for meaningful relationships in my life and for forgiveness. And for allowing me to make amends and not miss another opportunity to tell someone I love them.

Last Christmas, two girlfriends and I took a fabulous trip to The Big Apple. Each of us brought our oldest daughter with us. It was one of the most fun trips I have ever been on! You name it...we did it. Both of the girls who I went with are Type A, which worked out really well for me. All I had to do was show up. They had read books for tourists, planned the itinerary, made our lunch and dinner reservations months in advance, and purchased out tickets for the Broadway Shows. When I tell you that I did nothing except shop prior to our trip, that is the honest truth. It was awesome! I highly recommend traveling with Type A friends!

The first night we were there, we saw The Rockettes. It was phenomenal and I left teary-eyed. They put on a performance of The Nativity that left me breathless. Live donkeys, camels, sheep. Absolutely beautiful and completely unexpected. On our second night, we were able to see "Mary Poppins", which was just as incredible, especially when Mary Poppins flew into the air with her umbrella. I was elated! How do they do that? I just loved it. I sang "Just a Spoon Full of Sugar" in my sleep! I was elated AAA seemed unimpressed. I assumed it was because she was just worn out. We walked all over the city and even I was exhausted. On our third night, we were able to see "The Little Mermaid" on its debut weekend. It was thrilling...the colors, the lights, the music, the audience participation. I want to go back! To this day I can't hear "Under the Sea" without breaking it down. And I get chills when I hear, "Kiss the Girl." (And I want a pet lobster named Sebastian!) During intermission, one of my friends leaned over and asked AAA if she liked it, she yawned and replied flatly , "I just don't really like shows with music in them."

Oh no she ditt -in!

I was speechless. Still am. I don't know what to say. I guess I could say I appreciate her honesty. But that would be a lie. All I can really think of to say is that I am glad there was a three story McDonalds in New York City or the trip to the Big Apple would have been a complete waste on AAA!

Have a great day!

Thanking God today for memories made!

SMILE!

Just wanted to give ya'll something to smile about on this bleak day!

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

About this time last year, the kids and I were headed to Office Max to buy some paper for the computer. It was a beautiful day. Weather was nice. Traffic was minimal. Kids were quiet in the car. I'm stopped at the light to turn left. The left arrow turns green and all of a sudden - SCREECH! I was hit by a man in a really old, big, heavy Ford pick-up. He landed in the grass of the bank building. The children - especially Sunshine and Little Man- freaked! Li'l Man had actually banged his head, his eye, on the seat in fron of him because he wasn't sitting in a booster like he should have been. I was physically shaken but we were all O.Kay. You know I tend to freak out. So I did. I called M at work. He was on-call, so I had to put "911" into his pager after my phone number so he'd know this was serious. He calls and the minute I start talking I start crying. I couldn't get the "what ifs" out of my mind. What if I had been just a few seconds faster? Kathryn and/or I would have taken the brunt of the blow. I couldn't stand to think about it. Obviously I'd rather take the brunt, but the thought of the kids seeing me like that was so upsetting. We were safe. I was O.kay. Why can't I just be thankful? Why do I have to re-play all sorts of scenarios in my mind that are so difficult to think about? Is it normal to torture yourself with tragic thoughts like that?

Anyway, the police arrived rather quickly. I managed to drive my car to the Panera parking lot. The police visit the man in the pick-up truck in the bank parking lot first. After about 20 minutes, the policeman comes to talk to me to get my side of the story. I explained to him that I was sitting on "go" waiting for the light to turn green. When it turned green, I started to go, and the pick up truck ran the red light and hit us. He says, "Ma'am, the witness and the driver of the truck said that your light was red and that for no apparent reason you started driving." WHAT?!?! He proceeds, "Do you think you saw someone else's light turn green and you just started going." I was so confused! How could he even suggest that? Of course I didn't do that! So I say, "Look. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it."

So, of course, who do you think M believes? And who do you think everyone else believes? NO ONE believes the mom in the mini-van with four kids and a cell phone. So we paid our deductible and our insurance took care of the rest.

But the story can't end there! We rented a Navigator for a little over a week while the van was in the shop for repairs.( Sidenote/Question: Why do people/moms drive SUVs. No room for groceries. Kids have to climb over each other to get to the back. Miserable driving experience.) Anyway, on the day that I'm supposed to return the rental car, I decide to vacuum it out. It was actually in good condition. The kids hadn't eaten in it all week. No one had fallen asleep and TT'd in their seat. All was good. I just wanted to return it in the same condition. So I find the orange extension cord and grab my upright vacuum cleaner. I set the vacuum on the leather seat and start vacuuming. Do you see where this is going? I sure didn't. I vacuum out the car, unplug the extension cord, and pick up the vacuum. Uh - oh. The bristles from the vacuum burned a HUGE hole in the seat. There's no denying it or hiding it. How am I going to tell this to my husband? This is a double-whammy. It's bad enough that he thinks I ran a red light. But then I burn a hole in the rental car?!? "Umm, honey. Um. I was trying to clean out the rental car - I was really trying to be a blessing to Hertz - and um, well, you might want to take a look at the car." Ouch!

Sorry for the abrupt ending. It just didn't have a good ending and I couldn't make one up.

So I'm looking back and thanking God that it was just a car seat and a messed up mini-van. It couldv'e been much worse!

Room Mom 9 - 1- 1

I am so thankful that last week is over! Being the room mom kicks my you-know-what!
This is the thing...I didn't sign up to be room mom!! I knew better. I have suffered through it before and made a conscious decision to not sign up. I made the mistake of being room mom when AA was in kindergarten at AEEC. I hate to say it, but here it goes: it should have been a paid position! Or at least they could have warned me! I had no idea I'd have to hire a babysitter 20 hours a week for my younger 3 so that I could ride around Auburn each week looking for refrigerator boxes so that AA's class could build the Empire State Building (I'm not kidding) and a mock airplane to take them there. I had no idea that my husband would have to have a degree in engineering so that he could help build the Empire State Building and build several pumpkin shaped bean bag toss games. "Games" doesn't make the impact that I want it to. These were huge pieces of plywood that were cut out and painted to resemble huge Jack - o- Lanterns. So big that when we moved, we left them at our old house, along with the trampoline and swing set. You get the picture?

And when AA was in first grade, I was forced to sign up AGAIN. I didn't want to , but no one else did. So I signed my name on the bottom line. I didn't know I'd have to fix a Thanksgiving Feast for 20 students, plus parents and grandparents...by myself. You see, I am too unorganized to delegate. So I end up doing it all by myself at the last minute. Then everyone oohs and aahs and says, "You make it look so easy. How do you do it all?" If they only knew! Do it ALL? Are you kidding me? They haven't seen my house! Or my car! Or my kitchen! Or the pile of laundry!
HELP!

So this year, I checked to be sure that someone else had signed up ...they had! I did a victory dance right then and there! But about 2 weeks ago, AA's sweet teacher asked me what I had planned for the Halloween,oops, I mean "Fall" party. I know had that "deer in the headlights" look. "Um. Well. What do you mean," I sheepishly asked. "Well, Ms. Smith, one of the other parents, asked if we had plans for a fall party and I told her to check with the room mom. Has she called you yet?" NOOOOOO!
I think. But instead I say, "No ma'am. What would you like?" So she says, "Something sweet, something salty, something to drink, and a treat bag." I leave there completely deflated. I know what this means. This means I will be bringing - all by myself because I'm too unorganized to delegate- something sweet, something salty, something to drink, and 20 treat bags. How did this happen? Do I have "Room Mom" written across my forehead?!?! I think I do.

So last Monday rolls around and I think, "O.K. The party is Friday. I have plenty of time." Wednesday comes. I start baking cupcakes. Thursday comes. I run to Hobby Lobby to buy googly eyes and white paper bags to make ghost treat bags. Why can't I just buy some cupcakes from Kroger and be done with it?! Why can't I buy some tacky cellophane treat bags like everyone else?!? WHY do I have to make this so complicated?!?! The trip to Hobby Lobby was successful . I leave with white bags and googly eyes. I even managed to find candy eyeballs for the spider cupcakes that are too cute! Thursday afternoon. I can't find my glue gun to glue the googly eyes on to the white bags. I offer each child $5 if they can bring mommy her glue gun. No luck. You're kidding! I have 3 glue guns...where are they? (By the way, I now have 4). So ...it's okay. I'll deal with the glue gun later. I tackle the cupcakes. I have the cupcakes already baked, the icing, the eyeballs, the Twizzlers ready to be cut unto spider legs. I ice the cupcakes and put the eyeballs and legs on and I am so pleased. They are my little spider friends. But AA walks in and says, "Mom, I can't bring those to school. The eyeballs have peanut butter in them." What!?!? I forgot that she was in a peanut free classroom. "It's O.kay," I tell myself, "they are just cupcakes." Thursday night was Trick-or-Treating in our town so I had to stop what I was doing anyway and focus on the witch, the Georgia football player, the cheerleader, and of course, Gabriella. Fast forward to Friday morning. The kids have a parade at school. I forgot to mention that AA was supposed to be a First Lady from the 1700's in her school's Election Day parade. I forgot to mention the 2nd trip to HobbyLobby to pick up fabric to make her the First Lady costume. So now it's Friday. We make it to the parade. I sped from the parade to Hobby Lobby for the third time in 2 days. I purchase a new glue gun and some glue sticks. I make it home in time to glue the eyes on the bags. Oh good...life will go on. We make it to school with all the goodies. Along the way, several people stop to admire and comment on the goody bags and spider cupcakes. I just smile and pretend to have it all together. Then I get to AA's room and take all of the peanut butter filled eyeballs off the cupcakes. It was depressing. I tell M about it later. He says, "why didn't you just go to Kroger and buy some cupcakes from the bakery." He just doesn't get it.

P.S. I am no longer the room mom. Several moms had e-mailed me during the week to ask if there was going to be a Halloween, I mean, FALL party. I kept thinking, "Why didn't YOU sign up to be room mom?!" Finally, at the party on Friday, I was able to pass the torch to a mom who had never been room mom before. Bless her heart!

PawPaw

Yesterday was my grandaddy's 95th Birthday.

I can hardly write that sentence without tearing up.

If you don't know my Paw Paw, you're really missing out. If you do know him, then you know just how special he really is. You know he's a mess in every sense of the word. And you know why I'm tearing up as I write this.

There is something about a Grandparent's love that shapes and changes a child's life. Yesterday as I watched two of my children sit in my PawPaw's lap while he kissed one of their boo - boos, I thought about how they are making memories that will be so much a part of who they are that they won't even remember making them. I realized , as I thought about my Grandmommy and my PawPaw, that I can close my eyes and recall every detail of their home and of their pink beach house that my PawPaw built with his own two hands. The beach house on St. Dennis Court in Dauphin Island, Alabama, is no longer there. Ivan and Katrina took care of that. The year that the house disappeared was monumental for us all. The beach house was so much more than just a house on stilts. It represented more than just a place to enjoy the sand, water, and sun. It was a place to completely be yourself with the family that had known you since the day you were born. As long as that house was still standing, we knew that we would get together each summer and without even knowing it, celebrate being a family. To this day, I can't go to the beach anywhere without bing overwhelmed with a sense of love, awe, and wonder. If I could bottle this feeling up and give it to my children, I most certainly would . These feelings are synonymous with the memories of that pink beach house. That pink beach house is synonymous with my PawPaw. And while the pink house that my PawPaw built was suddenly gone, the memories live on.


If you've never slept in an unairconditioned beach house on stilts that sways to the wind as it blows, you are missing out. I remember the sound of the metal blinds clanging against the open screened windows. The soft hum of the box fan in the background. The sound of the breeze against the screen. The smell of sand and surf as you drift off to sleep. The sound of the waves against the shore. Ten cousins tucked in all around you. And you're all safe and sound because PawPaw's there.

I remember the sandy floor, the sandy feet, the sandy sheets. I even remember the first flooring in the beach house. A tan and white stone looking Formica that blended in with all the sand that a dozen cousins could bring in during one day.

I remember the deep pink toilet in the pink bathroom in the pink beach house.

I've seen more falling stars that I can count while lying on my back on a beach towel on the deck of that beach house with my cousins. Every once in a while,the silence was interrupted with a, "Wow. Did you see that one?"

I remember riding in the "Love Boat II" with our orange, bulky, over-sized life vests. I remember being caught in a storm in that boat. We all huddled on the floor as PawPaw raced for home. He never flinched. Cool as a cucumber.

I remember PawPaw cleaning and scaling fish like nobody's business underneath that beach house. If you were lucky, he'd open up the belly of the fish and show you what it had just eaten. I even remember the handle of his filet knife.

I remember the paper grocery bags in the bottom of the "ice box" (he still calls it that), full of live blue crabs that he pulled out of the crab traps he had set out earlier in the day. The crabs would suffer a slow death in the ice box before being cleaned and tossed into a pot of homemade Gumbo.

I remember being called a "jackass" more times than I can count. It was his term of endearment for me. I'll admit it now...it did hurt my feelings. I knew he loved me and I loved him to pieces! I smile, now,every time I hear the word.

I remember watching my PawPaw put his cast net in his teeth and toss it effortlessly into the water. I never remember him pulling up an empty nest. I'm sure he did, but I don't remember it. I remember shrimp, catfish, mullet, minnows.

I remember that he'd run his fingers through the water on the Bay -side at night, and the jellyfish would illuminate under the moonlight. We thought he was magic. Honestly , we still do.

I remember the sound and smell of the percolator and even the sound his spoon made as he stirred his coffee in the white coffee mug with the green design at he top.
Even now when I hear someone stirring coffee in a ceramic mug, I smile.

I remember Grandmommy's potato salad and deviled eggs sprinkled with paprika or cayenne paper, and fried mullet or catfish. Homemade hushpuppies with ketchup or cocktail sauce. Homemade tartar sauce. Lemon wedges. Sweet iced tea.

I remember looking at the ocean at night and seeing the lights of shrimp boats by the dozen. It was mesmerizing.

I remember climbing into the back of my PawPaw's red Ford pick-up. Sheer excitement to ride in the back bed of a pick-up with ten of your cousins and your PawPaw at the wheel.

I remember him sitting on the porch of that house with his binoculars in his hand. He'd sit quietly, watching the sea gulls dive for their dinner, the shrimp boats come and go. He'd point out the dolphins in the distance.

I never remember him raising his voice. Ever. He was so calm and gentle, yet so strong and confident.

I can see it all in my mind and my heart, and it makes me smile. It's a piece of time that has shapd me and taught me how to live and love well.

While PawPaw used to be a man of few words, if you're in a room with him now...hold on. He'll talk you're ear off. I try to hang on every word, because I know that time is precious. I want to soak it all in, remember every detail of every story, even if it's the 10th time I've heard it. He loves re-telling his stories. I guess when you're 95 years old, there isn't much to say about the future, so you cling to the past and share your stories in hopes that the memories don't die when you do. Don't worry, Paw Paw...if you only knew. You're a legacy. The memories you have given me will live on as long I'm alive, and I will pass them down to my children, who will pass them down to their children, and their grandchildren.

So on your 95th Birthday, I wish youall the love and happiness that your life has brought to me and so many others. I could not be more grateful.

Thanking God today for this wonderful man I am so blessed to call "PawPaw." What a legacy!