While going through the old family photo box I found these gems from almost ten years ago and couldn't resist posting them. This was the summer of egg fights and wedgy wars... ah those were the days....

Some of you may vaguely remember that I went to my nephews wedding way back in March and said I'd blog more about it later. Yes, I've admit I've put it off, not because I didn't want to write about it but because I wanted it to be special. I wrote this blog several times mentally and with a little reminder from Heather I finally decided to put fingers to keyboard. Forgive me this post will not contain wedding pictures or descriptions of the cake and bride's maids dresses. This is about the boy that became a man and got married.

See Patrick is not just a nephew to me. He was born when I was just a preteen and Norma and Clayton lived with us when he was little. He was my first baby boy. My first slobbery baby kiss all over my face, my first chubby arms wrapped around my neck, my first mischievous giggle, my first "do it again" and my first realization that I wanted nothing more than to be a mother when I grew up.

Patrick had HUGE brown eyes, blond hair with big loose curls when allowed to grow out, big dimples, his diaper always seemed to sag even if it wasn't dirty, he loved to play with toilet paper, he spent an enormous amount of time hanging off me (my hip, my back, my head, etc.), his favorites toys were his teenage ninja turtles and his toy guitar, he loved the Girls, Girls, Girls Motley Crue video and could bang his head at the age of three, he laughed all the time and I don't remember him ever throwing fits, he was sweet, kind, gentle, obedient, had a strong sense of justice, and most of all affectionate. When that child looked you in the eyes and said, "I love you" he said it with an innocent honesty that came straight from his heart. If he had faults I'm sure they were admirable but I don't remember any. He was a perfect little boy and I fell in love the first time I set eyes on him.

Patrick has grown into a fine young man. He has grown up and out, his hair has darken, he stills gets frustrated with injustice, he is a teddy bear that still loves with all his heart and I can still see my first baby boy when I look at him.

I too have grown up and I've had a little baby boy of my own. Over the years I've often seen his cousin in him and have enjoyed the reminder of the first. My little boy is twelve now handsome, kind and loving like his cousin. At Patrick's wedding I couldn't help but swell with pride and my two boys. One is a man and one is on his way. Thank you God for blessing me with my two little baby boys.

And for those of you dying to see actual wedding photos
here is a link to an album.

Patrick's Wedding

I woke up around 4 AM to potty. I stayed awake because my sinus's woke up and I laid in bed blowing my nose and sneezing until almost 5 AM. Seeing I was not going to return to slumber and that I was depriving my dh of his last precious moments of sleep before he had to get up and off to work I decided to go ahead and get up.

Now getting up early is a rarity for me. I prefer to rise around 9 or 10-ish. However, when I do get up early it is because I'm restless so I normally get straight on the house work. So, I put on the coffee and decided to make biscuits, bacon and eggs. As I fussed about the kitchen...my granny's kitchen...the kitchen I've spent hours watching her work in I couldn't help but to think of her. So I started making a mental list of what I remember best about Granny.

She was always up before dawn, worked until lunch, napped during the mid-day heat, then cooked supper and was in bed by no later than 9 pm.


If you slept past 8 am she would wake you up and ask if you were going to sleep all day.


She made everything from scratch.


She wore aprons when cooking and/or cleaning.


For at least 10 years every week she saved the cartoons from her newspaper and put them away for when my cousin visited because he once said he liked to read them.


She sewed her own clothes.


Her home was a smorgasbord of yarn colors (mostly burnt orange, mustard yellow, and olive green. YUCK! LOL) bought from garage sales. She crocheted dolls dresses, arm chair covers, rugs, dish towels, throws, afghans, you name it and she could crochet it.


She once made me a quilt from scrap fabrics and I recognized several patterns as being from pairs of my grandpas old boxers.


She used to make me lay on the counter once a week so she could wash my hair in the kitchen sink because she didn't believe I washed it when I bathed.


She had her own green house and could grow anything. And knew the name of any plant you could point at.


She could also can, or make preserves or jam of anything.


She once sewed me a little ruffly top with a matching pair of bloomers from a pink fabric with little strawberries on it. I ruined it the first time I wore it by sitting in the middle of her strawberry patch and eating all her strawberries staining it with the juice and she didn't even get mad.


She spanked with a fly swatter but was known to hit with whatever was handy be it a flip flop or her cane.


She once beat my ex-husband about the head and shoulders with her cane and the last time I saw him he was still afraid of her.


She called any woman that paid too much attention to my grandpa a "Hussy".


She once tried to shoot grandpa for talkin' to a "hussy".


She believed wrestling was real.


She always shared her ice cream with her dogs.


Her dogs were always over weight.


The oldest girl of 12 children she quit school after 3rd grade to help her mom with her siblings.


She wrote every thing the way it sounded to her so that her letters were like deciphering code. This also meant that for years she wrote my maiden name as Wallass which always made me laugh.


Despite her lack of education she managed all the house hold bills, ran her home like a drill Sargent and read her KJV front to back several times in her life time.


When company left she would strip the guest bed, wash it's linens and remake it. Then when she knew company was coming she would strip the guest bed, wash it's linens and remake it. I never could figure out how it got dirty in between guests.


She had Osteoporosis, Parkinson's, Rheumatoid Arthritis and eventually had both knees replaced but never stopped working in the yard or home.


She used to pretend that hugs and kisses frustrated her and she'd shoo you away but couldn't quite pull it off because she'd always giggle.


She had 2 miscarriages and out lived all but 3 siblings. She outlived her first husband (my mother's father), but God spared her when at the age of 80 she died in a car accident just months before her second husband lost his battle with cancer.


When I picture her I either picture her working in the yard in the morning or sitting in her chair crocheting at night.


My Granny was a true Southern woman cut from a special clothe. I just wonder as her generation with it's talents and skills die out...will people in the age of computers and cell phones ever realize what they've lost?