This week is a definite departure from the usual routine at our house.
My daughter and her family came to visit on Good Friday, and we had a fun weekend together. Denise and Dave went back to town on Sunday, leaving the children with us for their entire Easter holidays. Here are a few photos.
Needless to say, my time and energy have been devoted mostly to our little guests.
How was your Easter?
In my next post, I will be sharing some news. Stay tuned!
When my husband Paul was six years old, he and his family moved from Newtown – the little community in which we live now – to live in the capital city of St. John’s. Their parents relocated so that Paul’s oldest sibling David could attend the Vera Perlin school for his special needs.
On the day of the big move, Paul crawled up under the house – the actual house we live in now – in a show of protest. “Everyone should be able to live where they were born,” he argued through tears, but the die had been cast. He was pulled out and packed into the car with everyone else.
On the very first day at their new school, Paul and his other brother Kevin, who is one year older, decided to walk home from school for lunch, despite being told to stay there and eat the lunch they’d brought. But when they saw other children going home, they wanted to go as well. Unfamiliar with their new neighbourhood, the two boys got lost, and Kevin started to cry.
Brave little Paul tried his best to console his big brother by distracting him. “Don’t cry, Kev. Look at the pigeons,” he said, pointing at a bunch of them as they waddled across the sidewalk, hoping the strange, tame city birds might cheer him up. It worked, and they ended up following a classmate to his house. Between the jigs and the reels, their dad had to leave work and go pick them up.
Let’s go back a couple of years when Paul was four and Kevin was five, to another time the younger boy displayed his wisdom. A new addition to the family of three boys had arrived, and this time, it was a girl! When their mom brought baby Julie Ann home, the boys crowded around to get a look at their new sister. Kevin’s eyes opened wide when her diaper came off to be changed. “Look, Paul,” he said, incredulous. “She ain’t got nar topper!” (penis)
“No, ya foolish,” Paul said, enlightened beyond his years. “She got whatever Mom got.”
Now before you think I’m beating up on my brother-in-law, I’d like to share one more tale. Okay, two. When Paul was about nine and enjoying his summer vacation in Newtown, Kevin saved him from drowning. Paul was diving with some other boys off of Burnt Island, but he tired in the deep water and panicked. Kevin grabbed him by the hair on top of his head and pulled him to safety.
Years later, when Kevin was just beginning his teaching career, he and Paul were driving along in St. John’s one evening. Without warning, Kevin pulled over, stopped the car, and jumped out. He’d spied two teenage boys in a fist fight near the local hockey rink, and he wanted to stop them. Paul watched as he parted the boys, reasoned with them, and ended the scuffle.
It was a day he never forgot. Where most people would just keep going and not get involved, Kevin stepped in and tried to solve the problem. It made Paul really proud of his brother.
Paul confessed there were other boyhood fights where Kev stepped in and rescued Paul himself, fights my husband started and couldn’t finish. I would say he’s grateful for those too. And so am I. 🙂
“If baking is any labor at all, it’s a labor of love. A love that gets passed from generation to generation.”
~ Regina Brett
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Our little baker girl at two years old:
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And here she is at nine years. Where has the time gone?
Our boy is turning SEVEN on Saturday.
Can’t wait to see you on the weekend, my treasures. xo
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“Grandchildren are one of the sweetest rewards for raising a family.”
~ J. Kelland Perry
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Weekly Photo Challenge: Reward
What does reward mean to you?
These days, few of us experience the old-fashioned pleasure of receiving a letter by standard mail. So imagine my joy to find, tucked inside a Christmas card from my aunt in the U.S., a handwritten note, along with a handful of photos sent to her from my father.
She writes:
“Dear Jennifer – A note to enclose with these snapshots sent to me many years ago. They are precious to me, but belong in your heart and your home. It was a great adventure that Ralph shared with me over the phone lines. – Lovingly, Irene.”
Discussing this with my aunt recently, she was unable to nail down the year they were taken, but she believes Dad made the trip to Labrador in the mid to late fifties. That would make him, at the youngest, twenty-one, and still single.
An added bonus: his familiar handwriting scrawled on the back of each snapshot. ♥
I have captioned each one with his words.
A closer look:
I love his outfit. Lots of layers, warm boots, yet he is wearing a jacket, shirt and tie, and his hair is perfect.
This begs more questions: why did he fly out of Gander and not St. John’s? Who was he with and who took the pictures? Why did he make this trip to Labrador? Unfortunately, we are fuzzy on all the details.
No surprise to me at all that Dad would love the little animals!
If only he and I could sit down and have a chat together about his adventure in “The Big Land.” In any case, I cannot put into words how good it feels to see my father’s young face again. ♥
Have you ever gotten mail that made your day?
Is there someone you love and miss with all your heart?
Further Reading: Labrador, the distinct, northerly region of the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador
I’ve been following Elizabeth from Almost Spring nearly as long as I’ve been blogging. She writes eloquently as a woman blindsided when her husband leaves their marriage, and tells how her life is transforming from “We to Me.”
In her own words:
I am a 59-year-old woman surviving the pain of the collapse of my 37 year marriage that occurred suddenly through no choice of my own. I survived the first six months by living in today and enjoying the moments of a glorious summer.
…When that first summer ended, when the days became shorter, the mornings colder and I could see the winter approaching, I began to wonder how I would survive the darkness, the cold, the grey skies and the impending gloom of winter. Then I thought to myself – ‘why?’ It is almost spring… So too with my current life situation.”
I chose one of her posts from last month because it illustrates how far Elizabeth has come on her emotional journey. You might like to follow her too, if you’re in a similar situation. Click on the link below to read about her, and don’t forget to mention Jennifer sent you.
Comments are disabled here in hopes you will visit and comment on her blog.
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.
❤
*Image:Courtesy[StuartMiles]FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Happy Monday, everyone. Here are a few images that made me smile with affection last week:
When she can’t be in her master’s lap, Vivian will take possession of an article of clothing or anything that smells like him – even his sandal. Nice fit.
My grandchildren, captured in slumber about six years ago.
Nico before his haircut…
…and after. He is like a different dog!
What endearing images have caught your attention recently?
My One-Year-Old Daughter and Me
Denise was born on a beautiful sunny day, just like today. She decided to show up three weeks before her due date of July 6th. Born at Carbonear Hospital, she was the smallest baby there at the time, weighing a dainty five pounds, seven ounces.
My life as a very young mother had begun!
Denise at Six Years Old
Denise was a happy child, but she was also softhearted, intelligent, and focused.
Bachelor of Nursing Graduate
She always worked hard to realize her goals.
Her Beautiful Family
Happy Birthday, Denise! I am so proud of you, and can’t imagine my life without you in it!
Love Mom ❤
When the fog rolled in over our lounging chairs this afternoon (with us still in them), we counted ourselves lucky we at least had enjoyed an hour of hot, precious sunshine.
You may see some of the fog in the pic below.
We put our chairs back in the shed and went inside. But Vivian had other ideas.
She stayed behind in her outdoor room…
…demanding that we come back…
…looking more and more pitiful.
She gave up eventually, I think.
Rhonda deals with the loss of her beautiful daughter last spring by blogging about it. Heart-wrenching, powerful, and beautifully written, she tells how even those closest to us often keep depression hidden. Please ask for help if this is you.
On 4-11-13 I lost my beautiful, brilliant 23 year old daughter to suicide due to the illness that she kept from me and all others all her life, depression. This is the story of my travel down this road of horrendous pain and disbelief, and stories of her wonderfulness as a person
Due to an interruption in our internet service, this post didn’t go online yesterday as it should have on my son’s birthday. My apologies!
In the midst of a snowstorm back in the eighties, my boy decided to make his debut into the world. Because I couldn’t make it to Carbonear Hospital, Brian was delivered in the nearby cottage hospital, a high point for the staff there that day. He was a strapping nine pounds seven ounces, and I was thrilled to have a little boy, as I had a girl at home.
As most little boys are growing up, my son was a bundle of energy who kept me on my toes, but he was also super-affectionate.
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How quickly the years have flown by! Here is Brian in his teens.
Happy Birthday, Honey. You have enriched our lives beyond measure. ~ Love, Mom ♥
Jennifer's Journal 