road trippin'

We recently drove a half day's distance from our home to a family reunion with my Chicago family. Long before we rolled out on this expedition, I was consumed by preparations. With the mental image of four restless children bickering with each other and chiming in on a chorus of ear-piercing screams not all that difficult to imagine (ahem), I searched high and low for ideas to while away the hours peacefully.  Thanks to lots of help from the bambini's grandmothers and that new-fangled time sucker Pinterest, we came up with an array of "amusements" that kept the kiddos engaged both in the car and at the hotel during "downtime" (such as it was), all tucked neatly (for a while, anyway) into "treat bags" with the bambini's names written on them.

I packed some sticker books, of course, Lego- and big truck- and build-your-own-cupcake-themed, in various sizes and formats according to age of the child who would be using the book. We brought along a haul of fresh library books too.  There were also -- thanks to the grandmothers -- car games (including this license plate game), flash cards, mazes, and Color Wonder markers and paper.   There were these nifty magnetic baking sheets complete with magnet-backed family photos which were perfect for playing with both in the car and using as a lap desk in the hotel (and now back at home).  Here are lots of ideas to run with the magnetic trays.

There were games Grandmare authored herself relating to the family favorite "Cookie Mouse" books and guessing games to play with siblings, stuffed animal puppets for impromptu puppet shows, and books to read as the miles went by.

For the youngest traveler I was more than a little concerned about how to keep her happy on the long drive.  She flipped through the picture books and fiddled with the sticker books a little bit, but here again the grandmothers really came through with great ideas.  The younger lass loved fiddling with all the flash cards: putting them in the box, taking them back out, stuffing them into her treat bag, shuffling through them.  She and her sister were both mesmerized by these "I Spy" bottles filled with rice, small trinkets, and tiny photos, then glued *and* Duct taped closed.

What?  My piano cabinet is dusty?  Why would it be dusty?

The lassies also each got tiny little purses ...

if ever there is a perfect pastime for a toddler, it's a tiny purse from which she can pluck things then stuff them back in

filled with, of all things...

what's in there?

 tiny little piggies (and band-aids -- Grandmare knows these girls well.)

show me the piggie!

With all these amusements (among others in the treat bags revealed one at a time) as well as those to see out the window (a truck that can run on the railroad!  huge Mack trucks!  enormous oddities of all stripes!), the traveling was, for the most part (and except for the last leg home), peaceful.  Even still, the biggest trick up our proverbial sleeve came in the form of one Mimivan, in which rode Mimi, Papa, and Annie, sometimes in front of us, sometimes behind.  The bambini were able to trade off riding in the two vehicles, and this was a great coup.  We realize what a blessing and help this was in the overall success of the trip and are most grateful.

Packing for the trip came down to stuffing packaging whole outfits (including underwear, socks, bows, etc.) into separate zippered bags such as those that sheets and comforters come in or plastic ziptop baggies (I didn't devote the time to cranking out my own homemade mesh bags, though this is where I got the idea).  While it might seem wasteful to use so many ziptop baggies for this purpose, we didn't throw them away when we got home.  We'll find ways to reuse the baggies.  This did simplify the dressing process on the trip a great deal.  I've put this idea to use in the bag I keep stocked with fresh changes of clothes for everyone that goes with us everywhere.  Interestingly, the bambini seem to take real pride in having their separate bags tucked into the larger one. 

My beloved packed the Bambini Ride the night before we rolled out so that early the next morning we could wake up, get everyone freshened up, retrieve the smoothies we'd whazzed up the night before, get in the car and go.  We had breakfast cookies and other snackies at the ready for breakfast on the go.  We stopped a couple of times to freshen up and allow the bambini to switch cars.  We still made good time to our destination and had the afternoon and evening to visit with our family.

Our return trip home went fairly well, though there were no nappers as I thought there would be since we left for home after a full morning of playing at the fabulous children's museum.  This made for some dicey times midway through the trip, but eventually the overtired bambina was placated enough to make it home in reasonably good spirits.

It wasn't without its bumps in the road, but our first major family road trip was a success thanks to many prayers and a lot of preparation (and not just by me).  Along with the renewed family ties and great memories we made, each of us learned some valuable lessons in flexibility and adaptability -- skills we all need for the long haul.

family reunion

You know that scene at the end of Christmas Vacation when Chevy Chase's character Clark Griswold surveys the scene around him after all of his relatives have witnessed firsthand the collision of reality with his dream of a "fun old-fashioned family Christmas" and says in amazement to himself, "I did it."?

I can relate.

Last week our young family mounted an expedition unlike anything we'd done before.  We took a road trip.  Not just a short jaunt to visit my parents and sister -- a trip upwards of 350 miles.  Sure: other families have done this sort of thing plenty of times.  I myself was a veteran road-tripper by the age of five, driving more than twice that distance one way with my father (who did the actual driving) to visit our Chicago family before my Papa Jack passed away.  Still, this was the first time the family my beloved and I are privileged to parent went on such an adventure.  We, along with my parents and sister, met our Chicago family for a reunion.  There were some among them we'd never met (children, that is), and vice versa, and although Grannie had come to stay with us a couple of times and each of my aunts had come for short visits, it had been a long time since nearly all of Grannie's descendants were together.  Even still, we missed my cousin the doctor who recently began her residency. 

The first moments of our reunion were similar to the scene in Cynthia Rylant's The Relatives Came, illustrated by Stephen Gammell.  There was lots of hugging and chattering and more hugging and laughing and more hugging.  In the story, the relatives have driven a long, long way from their family farm to visit their loved ones.  They pack the house and sleep practically piled upon one another (not unlike the many Fourth of July holidays happily spent at Grannie's lake cottage) and stay for weeks, helping the host family tend to their garden (while eating up all its produce) and other household upkeep.  Then, after lots more hugs, they pack up their station wagon and head home with visions of next summer when the ones who made the trip this year will be the hosts.  In spite of the physical distance that separates the two branches of the family tree, there is a bond evident that isn't diminished by time and space, one that every family surely aspires to retain.

For our family reunion we met not quite in the middle and stayed at a hotel, which was a grand adventure for our bambini.  Our Bambini Ride isn't rainbow-colored like the station wagon in the story, but it was packed pretty much to the gills like the fictional vehicle. 

The book's illustrator Stephen Gammell won a Caldecott Medal for the artwork that brings this story to life, as he did for (among others) Song and Dance Man by Karen Ackerman, another book we enjoyed about a grandfather regaling his grandchildren with stories of his days as a vaudeville performer.

Seeing the cousins I'd spent many summers with as a child now all grown up like me (or are we?), one with children of her own, the bond between us was renewed.  When we were much younger, we'd write letters to each other.  Yes: letters -- as in paper, pens, envelopes and stamps.  I'd write them to my cousins, I'd write them to my Grannie, and they'd write them back to me.  So when I stumbled upon David Ezra Stein's Love, Mouserella, I hastily requested it. 

Mouserella has just bidden her grandmother farewell after a visit, and already Mouserella misses her.  Sound familiar?  So Mouserella writes a letter to her dear grandmother, telling her about anything and everything that's going on and providing illustrations.  This sweet story conjures up memories of me writing to my Grannie upon my return home from her house, missing her already and eager to keep the conversation going. We still try to do that now by phone and e-mail, not so much with letters.  The occasional card is always considered "fun mail."

Though we are separated by nearly 800 miles, the connection we have to our Chicago family is important to us to keep alive.  Though traveling has been difficult for us in recent years, we saw an opportunity to give it a go with lots of help from my parents and sister along the way as well as lots of help from my beloved's parents before we left.  Our family is blessed beyond measure to have the love and support of so many relatives and friends.  For all of that, for the gift of time we've recently had to spend together, and for the safe trip we made, I will always be grateful.

I think Clark Griswold would be proud.

free to be...

Our Independence Day observance began bright and early with some spectacular aural fireworks.  They flamed out once the drinkable yogurt was poured and the pint-sized firecracker was dressed in Fourth of July-appropriate attire, though there were a few more rounds of outbursts from some other firecrackers throughout the course of the holiday, which was a quiet one for us spent recouperating and resting.

Some of the fireworks had to do with not getting what one wanted when that one wanted it.  Such is not uncommon around here in this season of family life.  Dealing with the big feelings, underlying needs, and objective reality that are all wrapped up in one caterwauling little person is tricky business.  Reacting with empathy and objectivity are always my goals, but they aren't always the way I actually react -- especially with all the variables thrown in. Sometimes I am anything but empathetic and objective. We all have our moments.

After a day spent focused on pointing out the effects one child's behavior has on his or her siblings (and parents) in real time, the long view kicks in as I reflect on the day and its ups and downs.  With so much emphasis on "freedom" and "personal freedom" around our nation's Independence Day celebration, episodes such as these are powerful examples of what freedom is and isn't. In exercising our free will, our faith teaches us to consider the effects our choices and behaviors have on other people, as we are all part of the mystical Body of Christ.

We can't always have what we want when we want it. Someone else may be adversely affected, even hurt, by the way we act upon our desires, which we may or may not realize. What we want might not be good for us literally or spiritually. And while we may have the free will to act as we please, we will be held accountable for our actions by others and ultimately to God himself.

These are lessons we are presently teaching on a very basic level, but it's a lifelong process dealing with disappointment and learning how to channel the free will God gives us into the outlets he wishes us to utilize in his service. As adults we may know all too well that we don't always get what we want when we want it. We may not throw fits about that disappointing reality -- or maybe we do, each in our own way.  We might think ourselves so independent, as in "I'm an adult and I'll do as I please," or "I can do it all by myself," but we're all connected to each other in ways big and small, seen and unseen.

Free to be me yet dependent on Christ and on those around me, I pray for the grace to live in the freedom that comes from being the person God calls me to be, doing right by the people around me as best I can for the glory of God.

ringy dingy

Today would've been Aunt Robin's 51st birthday, and I didn't call my Grannie. 

I always try to call my Grannie on Aunt Robin's birthday -- or Papa Jack's -- and most definitely on Grannie's own birthday.  That's just how we do things.  As with there always being lamb cake for Easter, we always call each other on our birthdays, or on what would've been the birthdays of those we love but who are now departed from this life.

Grannie called late last week as we were driving to the last day of Vacation Bible School.  It was pretty early to be hearing from her, so I was initially concerned that something may be amiss.  It wasn't.  She was in good spirits, about to head out to help one of my aunts with some organizing.  Grannie has wizard-like skills in the organizational department -- specifically in the kitchen.   It had been a while since I had called her, in spite of my best intentions to call her at least once a week.   

*Once a week, Bonnie!  Is that so difficult?!  Especially considering how much time you spend driving in the car with that handsfree phone gadget?!*  

Not so long ago I did ring my Grannie-o to catch up on the "doings", as she calls them, only to chat for a minute with her dear friend there visiting all the while thinking it was Grannie.  Another time I called and interrupted her weekly bridge game with her "lady friends".  It was her turn to host.  She called me back later. 

Every time she calls she says something along the lines of, "I wasn't sure if this was a good time to call, so I just decided to try." I'm so glad she takes the chance.  I do that now too, not just with Grannie but with a few other cherished people.  I boldly acknowledge that I've taken the calculated risk of calling a fellow mother with young children at what might be their siesta time, hoping with great fervor that I won't awaken a bambini *thisclose* to drifting off to sleep for a sorely-needed siesta. 

When I've been on the receiving end of a call that I can't prudently answer, I don't answer it.  I hope this doesn't offend the caller, but most people who call me anymore realize that I'm not exactly sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.  It may take me a little (or a long) while to return the call, but knowing with certainty that someone I cherish has taken the time to call me has such a buoying effect on my spirits.  

I am often reticent to pick up the phone and call someone to say hello or indirectly ask for a pick-me-up in the form of a brief conversation for fear that they might be in the middle of something, but when I take the chance and hear his or her voice on the receiving end, I am so much the better for having done so. 

I'm sorry, Gran, that I didn't call you today.  Be expecting a call from me tomorrow...

the next chapter

Now that the elder lad is reading independently, we've moved into a new category of books to consider.  While he may read 12 books in a day in order to fill up a reading log, he has also been spotted curled up with some books of longer length and greater depth that he can work through on his own (which he prefers to reading at the appointed time on the agenda).

I'm willing to overlook the shoes on the sofa pillow this one time because he's reading Little Tim.

The children's librarian at our local library branch offered some suggestions for the lad's exploration based on his affinity for Mary Pope Osborne's The Magic Treehouse series that he started reading last summer with his grandmother.  They include the Flat Stanley's Worldwide Adventures series starring Flat Stanley from the picture book by Jeff Brown (by a different author), as well as the Andrew Lost series by J.C. Greenburg about a precocious young inventor who shrinks himself in the course of his scientific escapades.  The lad and his father and brother read several of the Andrew Lost books over the winter.  The Flat Stanley books are now in the queue.  She recommended several others, including a few different mystery series and some science-based ones, both of which seem right up the lad's alley. 

a little light reading

On a recent trip to visit the Chicago family, my dad returned with a sack full of books as gifts from his sister (the younger lad's godmother) for the bambini from -- get this -- a *local* bookshop.  One of the books was Nick Bruel's Bad Kitty for President -- a comedic crash course in politics for the newly-minted chapter book crowd.  Having finished that volume, a few more Bad Kitty books came home from the library in today's haul of fresh books.

While we were at the library this morning, Grandmare suggested the lad try reading Buttons: The Dog Who Was More Than A Friend by Linda Yeatman and illustrated by Hugh Casson.  Apparently it is a favorite among her third graders. 

We haven't seen the movie yet, but we did lay claim to a new-to-us volume of Herge's graphic novel series about a detective named Tintin, a character near and dear to the lads' hearts.

Along with the home library favorites starring Edward Ardizzone's unassuming but heroic Little Tim, some non-fiction tomes explaining the "hows" and "whys" of things, and some denser picture books (including Teach Your Buffalo to Play Drums, a new one by Audrey Vernick, who wrote one of my favorite getting-ready-for-school books Is Your Buffalo Ready for Kindergarten?), the lad also digs The Berenstain Bears and Scooby Doo.

As he nears his seventh birthday and his second grade year, the elder lad is all about helping out.  I'm so glad and grateful that he's also often about reading, even if he may deny it.  When it's on his own terms, he's much more enthusiastic.  With an intriguing and challenging array of books such as these (among others), here's hoping his love for reading will continue to grow.

fun for all ages

At every holiday I find myself thinking of celebrations I experienced as a child.  The adults in my life worked hard (I now realize) to host fun events for me and any other children present, such as my Chicago cousins or the family with four children whose dad has been my dad's pal since high school.  They made it look so easy.

Now that my beloved and I have the honor of creating celebrations that I hope are happy-memory-filled for our bambini, I realize that it's not easy, that a lot of work goes into these types of events.  All too easily, the big day can arrive with parents too bleary-eyed to see the expressions of delight on the faces of their children and too snappish to be any fun to be around.

What a pity, considering all that work was done to make it fun for the kids. 

Much like planning a birthday celebration, when it comes to crafting a jolly holiday, collaboration and preparation go a long way toward making the event fun for everyone.  When it's a religious holiday, such as Easter we're celebrating this weekend, it's imperative to keep the focus on the entire reason for the celebration -- namely, Christ's redemptive sacrifice, God's infinite mercy, and the hope we have in eternal life because of those.

Sure: it's fun to go on Easter egg hunts and consume vast quantities of yummy treats (lamb cake, anyone?), especially after a long Lenten season of self-denial, but we would not be celebrating at all were it not for the Passion we celebrated on Good Friday and the Resurrection we herald on Easter morning.

With all that in mind, let the rejoicing and revelry begin!

moving on

Today would've been my Papa Jack's 89th birthday.  This explains why I've been singing the silly songs he made up to my bambini all day long -- the ones about bamboo bungalows built for two (or six) and passengers refraining from flushing toilets while the train is standing in the station (which ends with "I love you"), but I only just made the connection.

It was also on this day several years ago that I went on my first piano audition at a university I was considering in Chicago near my extended family.  I was disappointed in how the audition went, even though Grannie had pointed out it was Papa Jack's birthday *and* it was raining, which he always took as a sign of good luck.  After the dismal audition (it *was* my first one, after all), I failed to see the good in the outcome.  But it was there.

I would go on a few more auditions, one of which resulted in a scholarship to the school that is now my alma mater and, consequently, a degree in piano (which I put to use this evening with the elder lad in an impromptu and very brief piano lesson) along with a blessing-filled college experience for which I will always be grateful.

Somewhere around this time I developed an affinity for the work of American artist Mary Engelbreit.  One of her creations spoke volumes to me then and still does.  A Huckleberry Finn-like character is walking down a road marked "your life", having just bypassed an intersection with a path marked "no longer an option."  I used to have a poster of this framed and hanging on the wall, but since we still have bare walls, I had to look it up online.  Here's a link to the image. 

At the time of that first audition I had my heart set on going to college in Chicago so as to be near my family there.  As it turned out, I would get that opportunity a few years in the form of a summer internship at Lyric Opera of Chicago.

I thought of the "Don't Look Back" image when I learned that a mom from our school community with whom I had just recently begun cultivating a friendship would be moving down the 'pike a ways with her family.  We had only just begun to get to know each other; we share many things in common.  This move is really for the best for her family.  I only wish I had gotten to know her better sooner, though I do hope we will continue our conversations via the many ways of communicating available to us.

Recently we were discussing some points in each of our lives when we struggled with submitting our own wills to that of God.  In a few decisive events, we came to realize that the God-given gifts and talents we wanted to use clearly weren't where God wanted us to be focusing our attention at that time.  By making peace with using other gifts and talents he had given us other than the ones we had developed more and were more comfortable using, we were able to move past the disappointment and find the blessings.

So as she moves on with her family, I wish her every blessing.  I thank her for the gift of friendship she has extended to me, and I look forward to seeing her as opportunities present themselves for us to visit in person.

The road ahead goes in one direction.  We can't go backward -- only forward.  We don't know where the road will lead, but Christ has it all mapped out.

no special reason

Many of my happiest childhood memories are of times spent with my family at Grannie's lake house north of Chicago, all of us together for no special reason other than simply to be together.  Some of us would be doing one thing, others another, still others engaged in something else, but we were all together.  We were ever mindful of the house being Grannie's, but it wasn't as though she was the hostess entertaining us all (although she is a very gracious hostess). 

The communal-style living arrangements of the dormitory where I resided my freshman year of college lent themselves to the fostering of friendships with some ladies who I still consider my close friends today, even if I haven't seen them in a long time.  Over the course of that year, the room I shared with a childhood friend became a gathering place for these new friends of ours.  When we were in our room, most of the time the door would be open and friends would wander in and settle down for as little or as long as they could.  I loved it. 

When the occasion presents itself for our family to come visit for the day or a weekend or however long, perhaps for a holiday or even just a few days' getaway, I relish the time and the sense of this place, our home, being a place where people are comfortable just being.   Special events like birthdays, baptisms, and holidays are exciting to plan (if a little stressful at the same time), but those times that surround the special events can be just as memorable.

As our bambini grow older and develop more friendships with their peers, I hope and pray that our home will be a place where they feel welcome to gather -- for any reason, or no reason at all.

special day every day

The younger lad had his "Special Day" on one of the family Advent calendars yesterday.   There were tasty chocolate ginger cookies to devour, a cousin visiting from Chicago to play with, and a new bouncy ball to cause trouble.  We went to school Mass and got a wave from the elder lad.  'Twas a full day.

This morning we went to check and see whose "day" it now is.  After we had announced who we'll be keeping in our thoughts and prayers today, the lad said "but please still pray for me."

We assured him we do every day.

company

My cousin is visiting from Chicago as she interviews for her internship and residency years following graduation from medical school this coming spring.  The bambini took to her instantly, chattering and showing her around, and telling her random things.  Her love for children is evident in the way she converses and plays with them.  She's a young lady of many talents, great intelligence, much warmth and great compassion.  What a delight to have such pleasant company. 

drive like mom

My dad drove me to school most of the time.  It was a special time for the two of us, triggered in my memory by hearing renditions of "Zippity Doo Dah" and other such ditties.  He and I have logged a lot of miles together, not just to and from school, but back and forth to Chicago lots and lots of times over the years. 

Sometimes we needed to make haste in the direction of our destination (which was usually not too far from our starting point, my hometown being small-ish and all).  At such times I am reported to have suggested he "drive like Mom."  That meant... with purpose (or something like that).  Nothing illegal or aggressive.  Just determined. 

My mom, you see, is a self-proclaimed gearhead and likes to get where she's going.  It's part of her charm.  We love her for it.

That's how I drove this morning when my beloved had to catch an early flight for a business meeting, which meant I needed to get our elder lad to kindergarten.  Four bambini plus Mama tripping over each other to get out the door at sunrise for the forty minute commute equals some fantastic feats of daring and silliness (such as Mama donning a sweater with a pretty butterfly -- a noticeable departure from my usual solid-color selections -- and declaring with great fanfare that it is "Fresh Contact Day" for Mama!!!), but we did it.  We made it to school on time. 

Gran-tastic week

It's always so difficult to say good-bye.  We are not big on long good-byes.  Just a hug, kiss, promise to stay in touch, and "we go," as Grannie says.  Prolonging the farewell only makes it more difficult.

This was our way of doing things on the many airport runs when I'd fly to Chicago on my own to visit Grannie.  She'd usually drop me off at the curb and be on her way.  It wasn't that she was ready to be rid of me or I of her -- it was just that it was time to go. 

The visits always pass too quickly, which is a blessing really, since that means we enjoy them so well we hardly notice the passage of our time together until it has ended.  So it has been this week Grannie has spent with us.  It seems like she just got here, and now she is headed home. 

I miss her already.

Gran-tastic conversations

Our Gran-tastic week is drawing to a close. Grannie will fly home to Chicago tomorrow morning.

We've had so many conversations about everything from present-day challenges to great-great-grandparents. It's been wonderful having her here. She's been a delightful guest and welcome presence in our little family. I'm going to miss her, and not just for her laundry-folding, dinner-salvaging help.

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of this time with Grannie, and for all the many conversations we've had not only during this visit, but throughout a lifetime of visits. For my Grannie and the wisdom she continues to impart, I am ever grateful.

Gran-tastic family tree

Grannie has a charm bracelet with baubles and silhouettes for each of her grandchildren and now great-grandchildren.  Today is her birthday, so we gave her a girl's head silhouette charm for the bracelet with the raven-haired lass's name engraved upon it, as we have done previously with charms bearing the names of our lads and other lass.

As Grannie showed the elder lad the bracelet this evening, she named each of her littlest loved ones and explained their relation to him.  While he has met most of them once or twice, he doesn't know them in the sense that he could name their favorite colors or interests.  Still, they are his family, and that's been one of the biggest reasons I'm so honored Grannie has come to spend this week with us.  As the week has progressed, each of the bambini has come to know Grannie better, and vice versa.

The lad and his siblings are richly blessed to have lots of family close by with whom they are developing relationships.  We don't get to see our Chicago family very much, so any opportunity is one to be seized and savored.  There is much my beloved and bambini can understand about me by knowing the family that has nurtured me throughout my life -- my Grannie in a particular way, since she and I have built such a special relationship over the many years of visits and time we've spent together. 

The roots run deep and wide in our family.  There are many examples of faith-filled, honorable, hard-working people the bambini can look to on *both* sides of their family tree.  By the grace of God, we can see his goodness in the faces of our family members both near and far away, and feel his love in the many ways they care for us.

Gran-tastic guest

My first lessons in hospitality came from my Grannie.  Every time we'd stay with her, we could tell she had gone to great lengths to prepare for our visit and had thought of many ways to make our stay comfortable.

From the spread of food awaiting our arrival, to the way she prepared our sleeping quarters with fresh bedding and space to unpack our things, to the deference she gave to our preferences when it came to our daily routines or comfort level with certain activities, and most of all the time she spent conversing with and listening to us, she made us feel welcome.  We knew she was glad we were there.

I hope Grannie knows how happy I am that she is here.  I didn't roll out the red carpet for her.  In fact, she's been folding laundry, loading and unloading the dishwasher, and making dinner for us -- and she's our guest!  But (she would protest), she's family, and that's what family does.

These past few mornings we've sat at the kitchen table, she holding the raven-haired lass and I refilling yogurt cups, each of us with our cup of coffee, just visiting.  It's been the logical progression from the days when I'd stay with her and come out in the morning to the sound of WGN on the radio, her puttering around fixing breakfast and reading the newspaper.  Now she's helping prepare food for her great-grandchildren, keep our household humming, and letting us love on her in the way we are able to at this moment.

She's both a gracious hostess and a delightful guest.

Gran-tastic faith

Every trip to Chicago has included at least one trip to Mass. Going with my Grannie is always an honor, an outing I savor.

Hailing from a small town where Catholics are a minority, visiting my family in Chicago and going to Mass with them was a major source of encouragement for and reinforcement of my own faith. I was always astounded by the sheer number of people at Mass. Compared with our little parish, Grannie's was humongous. It was my first glimpse at the universal Church.

The number of Masses Grannie's parish would offer over the Christmas holidays in order to accommodate all those wishing to attend boggled my mind. Many Christmas Eves I'd go to (a usually very crowded) Mass with my cousins, the four of us girls (this was before my sister and boy cousins were born) in our crinkly Christmas dresses. We'd come home to a Christmas Eve feast and all manner of merriment.

We've spent many Christmases in Chicago, and they've come to celebrate Easter with us a few times. We've gone there and they've come here for many sacramental occasions including baptisms, first communions, confirmations, and weddings. The celebrations afterward are always festive.

Such happy occasions have been largely due to living the liturgical year, celebrating the sacraments together, and sharing a common faith.

Grannie's faith has long been a source of inspiration to me. As I reflect upon the events of her life, some very joyful and some filled with sorrow, I realize that it is her faith that carries her through them. So it is for me too, God willing.

Gran-tastic help

Grannie's lake house has been the family getaway for a good long time now.  We'd pack as many as 25 people in the four-bedroom cottage for the Fourth of July festivities.  What fun that was.   All the adults pitched in to help in various ways -- cooking, cleaning, taking people out on the boat, playing with kids, attending to household fix-it needs, etc.

While there were no boat rides this weekend and we didn't have 25 people staying under our roof, the same "many hands make light work" principle applied.   Among other things, my beloved manned the grill.  My dad put himself on KP.  Last night my sister made the breakfast casserole for this morning's brunch.  My mom picked up last minute groceries.  Grannie held the raven-haired lass as much as the wee one would allow her to before returning to me for some resetting.  Several of us chased after bambini on tricycles. 

As Grannie is at the lake, we might have been the hosts, but (at least we hope) everyone's at home here.

Gran-tastic fun

From a young age I spent a lot of time in Chicago.  As a family we'd visit a few times a year.  Most summer visits we'd make the trip together, but then my parents would return home and I'd stay a while longer with Grannie. My grandfather had died when I was five, so it was just Grannie and me for sometimes a couple of weeks, usually about three weeks, but a few times as long as five or six weeks.

(When I was in college I spent an entire summer with her while I was an intern in the development department of Lyric Opera of Chicago.)

My aunties always had great ideas for fun things to do when I'd be in for an extended visit.  One of my aunties has three daughters around my age, and she was pretty hip to the fun things to do in the area.  My other two aunties didn't have children when I was growing up; at the time they were glamorous single working gals who commuted by train to downtown Chicago.  Grannie too always went out of her way to make sure I had a good time.  My aunties would take my cousins and to the pool.  I took art and drama classes one summer.    I'd go with my cousins to their friends' houses.  Grannie would take me shopping and to the movies, and we'd always plan at least one trip downtown on the train.  We spent a lot of time at her lake cottage, too.

It was fun just being there among them, even if we weren't off doing something or going someplace. 

With one auntie in town this weekend along with her five-year-old son and Grannie, our activities have largely revolved around making things fun for the kids.  Our cousin (one of many in our family) and my lads are having a rollicking good time being silly together, building with Legos, and playing outside in the beautiful weather.  This afternoon we took them to a local playground with lots of things to climb on, plenty of swings for kids of all ages, and a massive climbing structure with several slides spiraling and bumping riders to the ground.

Seeing the young cousins having fun together reminds me of the fun I had with my cousins growing up.  We might not have been quite as rowdy as these boys have gotten at times, but we made our own mischief all the same.  Such fun times, just being together...

Gran-tastic welcome

The 750 mile drive to Chicago always left us hungry, even if we'd just stopped an hour or two before that for one last tank of gas and a snack. Grannie would be waiting for us, no matter how wee the hour of our arrival.

She would've been to the Jewel that morning and would offer us something to eat from her fully-stocked fridge.  The welcome snack was usually just lunch meats -- and brick cheese. Oh how we love brick cheese. We've been known to bring home whole bricks of it as edible souvenirs, since it's not available in our area. After the initial round of hugs, we'd make some sandwiches and visit (and eat brick cheese).

When Grannie arrived with my aunt and cousin this afternoon, the sandwich fixins were set out (sans brick cheese). After they assembled their sustenance, we sat around the kitchen table and visited.

No artful presentation -- just help yourself.  We're so glad you're here.

Gran-tastic!

We are making ready for some special visitors due to arrive tomorrow.  My grandmother, aunt, and cousin are coming from Chicago for the weekend.  Grannie will stay with us next week as well.  I am so excited to see them and grateful she is coming to visit us for the week.

In a way, it's a role reversal.  I've been traveling to Chicago to stay with Grannie and visit family my entire life.  They've traveled to see us here, too.  Traveling these days is a lot more challenging than it was when it was just me to pack up and get there.  I've talked about that before.  Now Grannie is coming to me (as she has before). 

Over the next week, I hope to post some memories I have of the times I've spent with Grannie and the things I've learned from her.  As fun as it is to reminisce, however, it's more important to maximize the time I have her here under my roof.