Thrity-six years ago, on September 15th, the young man on the left was the result of the fruits of my labor!
This week Jimmy and his wife are visiting us in Louisiana with the results of the fruits of Angie’s labor last January.
Which is why this blog is so short.
I have major snuggling to do!
Photo credit to my daughter-in-law, Angie, for the sweet photo of Morrison at the plane window.
He’s a middle child.
Not the firstborn, a wickedly smart and full of caring son who holds his own special place in the family. Not the youngest, a captivating daughter who also happens to be the first girl on either side of the family since her own mother was born.
He’s had to carve out his place and make that in-between position special.
And he’s done it all with attitude, an attitude that makes him shine.
He’s been with us for three weeks this summer and I’ve probably heard this a thousand times but it always makes me stop and listen.
Because sometimes, when you’re a middle child and the family cacophony is loud, you just have to stop people and let them know you have something to say!
It seems a somewhat feeble ending….to end with something old rather than with something new but the last Daily Post Photo Challenge asks us to post favorites.
I wouldn’t classify this as my favorite post but it’s my first one, published in November of 2011, and although I don’t think I’ve revisited it in many years, it still explains exactly why I do this, and it contains one of my early favorite photos:
In the beginning I struggled with content so I found a photo challenge called P52 that another blogger hosted then switched over to the Daily Post Photo Challenge in January of 2013.
Over time the posts and the weeks just sort of piled up, one on top of the other, until six and a half years have gone by.
I find myself traveling a lot in this season of my life and although I love being in new places and experiencing new things, it always comes down to this….
There’s no place like home.
After living out of a suitcase, and being in a car or in airplanes for hours on end, there’s no place I’d rather be.
Home is where my center is.
Although none of them has ever lived at this particular address and two of my three sons and their families have yet to see the house in person, this is where I’ve gathered all their photos.
Spring Break at South Padre Island in Texas. The pictures tell the story!
What a wonderful thing it is, to know someone in one context and then see them in a totally different role.
Last week I spent time with a man who I know as a priest, a military officer and a friend but I’ve never seen him with his family.
For fifteen days these amazing and resilient kids waited out Hurricane Harvey with us while their parents stayed in Houston, enduring the storm and then cleaning up afterwards.
But finally, the waiting was over.
I’m not sure the odds were against it but I can’t help but feel like luck was on my side when my sons met and then married these three amazing women. Each one of them is completely different and each of them is perfect for the son they married.
Against the odds or not, I love all of them and I’m thankful they’re a part of our family.
As I was scrolling through photos on my computer for this post a few minutes ago I also came across this picture of me with my siblings. It made me wonder what the odds are of the same two people having four children, with just one of them being so darn tall?
I’m headed down to New Orleans for some Mardi Gras revelry this weekend, hoping to come home with one of the coveted decorated high heels thrown at the Muses Parade. Something tells me the odds are NOT in my favor for that particular wish but I’m willing to bet fun will be had anyway and I’m also willing to bet the photo ops will be abundant.
May all the odds be in your favor this coming week.
My youngest son got married last month and his wife took our family name as her own. All three of our daughters-in-law have chosen to change their names.
That certainly isn’t a given and I would have been totally fine with it had they chosen to keep their maiden names. I get that and I understand it, but my old-fashioned self wanted them to have the same last name as their husbands, for them to take that familial leap of faith.
I’ve never stopped identifying myself as a Crosby even though I’ve been a Kowalski twice as long as I was a Crosby. When I graduated from college and they announced my name as I crossed the stage I was sad for my parents that the Crosby name wasn’t announced or on my diploma. That day I found myself wishing I had changed my middle name from Mary to Crosby when I legally changed my last name, thus retaining on paper, in addition to in heart, that early sense of self.
When I had married several years earlier, at 18, I was totally delighted that by taking the Kowalski name my new husband and I had the exact same initials….JMK. I envisioned many sets of monogramed bath towels in my future. Changing my middle name to Crosby would have negated that.
There’s sunset the night before……
Sunset the night of July 27th, the night of Ken’s death. Photo credit to Jeanne Garman.
and then there’s the stark reality of the morning after.
On the morning after, you wake up and for the first ten seconds your sleepy subconscious tells you this is just an ordinary day like all others.
Until you remember.