My sweet, sweet granddaughter, Kylee, turned three months old. She was bundled up to go out in the snow that day with her rosy cheeks.

My sweet, sweet youngest baby, Adam, at his 25th birthday party. Twenty-five, people!! I was 25 years old when I had HIM! And it wasn’t THAT long ago either!!!! I still remember a neighbor when we lived in San Diego who had two teenagers say to me when my babies were just about two and three years old, “Treasure this age now because it’ll be gone in a flash.” My neighbor KNEW of which she spoke, let me tell you. But at the time, I was so busy chasing them through the yard trying to wrangle them into the house, sort of like herding cats, that I brushed her comment off like she was just talking to make conversation. Then I blinked a couple of times and my babies were grown. How did she DO that?

We held Adam’s birthday party at his dad’s house where Kylee was subsequently kidnapped by her grandpa. I think he’d honestly keep her forever if Adam wouldn’t fight him for her. He wasn’t even THAT smitten with his own babies when they were babies. It must be a girl thing. And Kylee doesn’t even know it yet, the power she has with her grandpa, because this little girl has him completely wrapped around her finger.

This past weekend (still January), the sun actually came out. It was so shocking and so joyous that even though it was still only 40 degrees, Chris and I went outside to enjoy the rays. We did what we do. . . take pictures. (Only he’s really good at it. I’m just the sidekick trying to learn from the master.)

We went down to the beach where we successfully froze our buns OFF. Chris was multi-tasking and geocaching at the same time. There was one hidden in Mr. Neptune there.

So we had to brave the bitter wind to go find it. I think Mr. Neptune needs a shirt on. It was brutal cold.

Then we drove over to First Landing State Park. There were more geocaches there. I tagged along taking pictures of where I want to build my house. I want to clear out that spot behind that tree and plop me a little bungalow right on the water. It was so beautiful in that spot. I’m going to go back when it’s not freezing ass cold so I can REALLY enjoy the view.

Parallel to the beach was this trail. I love trails. I have to add that to my list. I have a thing about trees. I already knew that, but dang if I don’t love trails too. This one was covered with hanging moss. It was very cool.

Then it was over to Fort Story to see the lighthouses. We had our little jaunt with lighthouses over this past summer traveling to North Carolina and up to the Eastern Shore, but kept bypassing these two little gems right in our backyard.

This is the new one that was built to replace the old one above it. Now the old one is open to tourists. Chris climbed it to take pictures from the top. We only had enough cash on us for one of us go up, so I gladly stayed behind in the gift shop chatting with the old guy that runs the place. We’d already walked about 4 trillion miles that day. . . I didn’t want to push my luck with TOOOO much exercise. My body would go into shock and shut down.

When Chris came down, he said, “Owh, my legs hurt! You’d have died, mom. You’d have never made it!” I told him that HIS grandmother, MY mother, climbed it just a couple of years ago when her brother came for a visit. He refused to believe me (but she did) because in his eyes. . . she’s OLD!!!!! (she’s 69 – not 109, for goodness sake!)

Anyway, there it is. January. It WAS here, but I swear it was like the wind. Swoosh and gone! I guess I’m going to have to keep taking pictures. That seems to be the proof I need that someone’s not playing tricks with the calendar. Let’s see if February slows down a little bit so I can wrap my brain around it. Geez.

I won the Baby-Pool!! 10-10-10 was THE day! The day I became a grandmother. The day my heart skipped a beat.

Although the DIL wasn’t due until 10-15-10, I had a . . . feeling. My son called me bright and early that morning and said, “Mama, you were right!” I squealed because I KNEW exactly what he was talking about (the much awaited day), but I still kept repeatedly asking “Really? Really?” My head was s.p.i.n.n.i.n.g..

He explained that her water broke and that they were at the hospital already and that there was no need to hurry as it was going to be a long day. I took him some breakfast and a couple of drinks, then back home to take a shower. (The hospital is literally one mile away from my house)

When I got back to the hospital, my ex was there in the waiting room. We had a pretty good time hanging out there (excited about our newfound grandparent status) watching Sunday Football while I kept going back and forth to the delivery room for a progress report. It WAS a long day! About 6:20 pm, sweet baby Kylee entered our world.

She got off to a rough start with some breathing problems and suspected heart problems and had to stay in the hospital for awhile longer that we’d expected. But she is home now and doing well. It was just a rough couple of weeks.

I’d never been so grateful as to have the hospital so close to my house and my work since I was back and forth a gajillion times a day. I tried not to be a complete pest, but I couldn’t help myself. My son and DIL never left the hospital. I delivered food and drinks and anything else they needed. (It made me feel useful in a helpless situation) We were all so worried for so long.

I just prayed and prayed for this little angel. She was so beautiful! It was so hard to believe that she was having so many problems inside. She had the most beautiful skin I’d ever seen on a baby from day one. My boys were born blotchy with misshapen heads and resembled little old men rather than the angelic babies I’d envisioned. Kylee was angelic! Kylee has stolen my heart.

And not that I’m biased or anything, but what a good baby!!! She’s very chill and rarely cries. When she does, it’s more of a squeak. Adam said, “It’s awesome how she cries so quietly.” I told him that she was just reeling him in; that she’d break out the big lungs later. She just had so much to deal with so early in her little life with the poking and proding and wires and tubes that I find it stunning that she’s just so chill.

I can’t wait to get to know this new little member of our family. I HAVE to take more pictures. I just hope that DIL (who is trying to break my heart) will let me. **a whole other story that I’m hoping some Zoloft can cure**

Me – knock me over with a feather. Still. Kinda numb. Head spinning a bit. I can’t believe it! I JUST gave birth to him a couple of years ago. Not nearly 24 years ago. That’s crazy talk! How can he be old enough to GET MARRIED? I’m telling you . . . “something” has come along and has snatched 20 years of my precious time and has taken off to a foreign land somewhere far far away.

I just brought him home from the hospital a few years ago.

Then he started school a couple of years later.

Now look at him!! He’s all grown and hairy and muscley . . . looking at his new bride-to-be with such happiness in his heart. . . and my baby is GETTING MARRIED!

Knock me over with a feather. That’s all I can say. Seriously.

I’m really glad I like this girl so much. Otherwise, this feather business might feel more like a chunk of concrete. And nothing good can come out of it if Mama feels like a chunk of concrete just knocked her over.

My heart and my prayers will be with my baby and his new bride tomorrow wishing them THE BEST life together full of eternal love, support for each other, and faith that they can make it through the best and worst of times. I hope that they stay this happy ALWAYS.

I love you baby!! And I love my new daughter! No one has ever made my baby smile this brightly.

This set of pictures has always made me laugh. I remember this moment like it was last week. I was hiding, unbeknownst to little Adam, watching him innocently sit there sipping his drink out of his big boy cup.

Then his brother spotted him. I guess it was Chris’ big boy cup.

It could be that I’m an evil, bad mother, but this makes me laugh every time I look at it. It so represents the struggle these two have had their entire brotherly lives trying to assess the proper pecking order. They did a lot of this. Typical little boys.

But then, there were THESE moments that make my heart melt like butter.

Brotherly love. Isn’t that the sweetest?

How did he get from this

to this

so damn fast?

Seriously. I think I’m having a mental crisis. It’s not that I’m sad that he’s grown up. I’m quite proud of the young man he’s become. He’s got a heart of gold, a fabulous work ethic and loves his family fiercely. So it’s not that I miss the adorable, tenacious little boy that he was. No – it’s just that I blinked and 25 years passed me by. I don’t know where it went. I mean, I was present. I think. Maybe I was asleep the whole time. In a drug-induced coma? No? Gosh, I guess I should have listened to ALL the folks that have told me that time flies. I didn’t believe them when I was young.

Now that I’m older. . . boy do I ever believe them! Age brings lots of things to the table. I thought the only battle I would have would be with gravity. It’s turning out that that isn’t the big deal at all. No – it’s the fact that time increases to warp speed while menopause morphs you into an alien creature. You wake up one day and see your grandmother in the mirror. Aaaahhh! My grandmother was not a pretty woman. She was sweet as pie, but pretty? Not so much.

Luckily, I don’t have vanity issues to stress me out with that part. I accepted my looks (or lack thereof) and my flaws a long time ago. Otherwise, I’d be in line at the plastic surgeon’s office with the rest of the plastic faced people trying to hang onto their youth. One reason is this:

My luck – I’d have freakish results like this. I’ll take my wrinkles, but hold the fleeting time, thank you.

I need to go now. I have to get shopping for Christmas because it’ll be here in a week if blink.

When you’re that close to popping, people are always asking “When are you due?”. When you answer, “Nine days ago”, people all but vanish into thin air. You hear a swoosh of wind as they flee for fear that you’ll drop any second. But nope. I didn’t drop in the grocery store that day. It’s funny that I still remember that bagboy and the expression of pure fear on his face when I answered his question.

Now I sit twenty-five years later wondering where the time went and am completely and surprisingly emotional. Why am I so emotional? My baby has had birthdays before. Apparently he’s had 24 of them already. Why is this one stirring my weepy pot? I’ve been on the verge of unloading a bucket of tears since yesterday and I just don’t understand.

I also don’t understand where those 25 years went. When you’re a kid, a year seems like an eterrrrrnnity. It felt like Santa only visited every five years because the one year seemed sooooooo looooonnnngg. Nowadays. . . gosh, a month feels like it’s a minute and a year feels like a couple of weeks. I was having a conversation at the pool last week (the end of July) about hurricane season and how we haven’t seen any yet this year. Miss N said, “They’ll probably start up in August”, and my first thought was, “That’s LATE in the summer” like it was a long way off. IT WAS IN TWO DAYS! August was only two days away and I was thinking it was a couple of MONTHS away. The summer can’t be almost over! It JUST started!

NOW my baby boy will be 25 years old tomorrow. I reminisced here last year, but wasn’t nearly as emotional. Am I weepy because I FINALLY figured out that he’s not my BABY anymore? That I blinked and his entire life flashed by me like a lightning bolt? Am I weepy because I finally realized that he doesn’t need me anymore? I don’t get it. But here I sit trying my best to hold back the tears as he gets one more year older.

My baby’s not this little anymore. He is all grown up. He’ll be 25 years old tomorrow!!

We were living in Atsugi, Japan at the time.  Ex was on a ship 95% of the time that we were there.  Chris was just a baby.  Adam was just a bun in the oven (he was born before we left though).  And we all lived in this little apartment out in the economy.  (That’s what they called “off the base”)  

That’s MY apartment there.  And as you can only imagine, I had Japanese neighbors for the most part.  Duh!  But there were two other American families above me on the third floor.  We all stood out like sore thumbs.  Chris and I with our snow white hair, and my friend, Winnie, with her bright red hair.  Yeah, we couldn’t help but notice one another.  And because I was so extremely quiet and introverted back in those days (it’s true!), I’d never introduced myself to her and her husband.  We only waved in passing.

Until one day.

See, Chris was just over one year old.  Such a cutie pie, he was.  And such a little boy!  While I was in our funky Japanese bathroom, I saw him toddle into the sink area and I saw him toddle out.  I thought absolutely nothing.  I finished taking care of my “bidness” and walked out into the kitchen. . . where I saw him!!

My baby had picked up one of my disposable razors from the sink and he’d been walking around knawing on it like it was a damn lollipop.  He was standing there acting like he hadn’t a care in the world while bleeding profusely from his mouth and his hands.  Blood was EVERYWHERE!  I can’t even tell you HOW MUCH blood there was.  And he was FINE.  Me, on the other hand, freaked OUT.  [It is only one of two times that I freaked out in my little boys' lives]  I scooped him up and threw him under the sink trying desperately to wash it all away. . . AND figure out where ALL it was coming from.

This child had hundreds of tiny slivers in his lips, tongue, fingers and hands – like huge paper cuts.  Apparently they didn’t hurt because he wasn’t crying.  (Well, he wasn’t crying until I freaked out on him.)  I tried and tried to stop all the little cuts, but there were just too many.  I scooped him up with a towel around him and RAN up the stairs to my redheaded American neighbor’s (whom I had only waved to in passing) apartment and banged on her door.  When she opened it, I simply THRUSTED my child into her arms and frantically said, “Make it STOP!” 

This girl calmly and quietly took my baby, walked into her kitchen and started gently washing him up, putting pressure on each of the cuts (or group of cuts) while walking around the apartment showing him her trinkets and stuffed animals and such.  All the while talking to him so sweetly.  ME, on the other hand, melted onto her kitchen floor in a giant pile of goo.I asked her, “HOW can you remain so calm??!”  She said in her angelic little voice, “Well, he’s not MINE.”  I loved her instantly.  Then I introduced myself.

Turns out that she was a pediatric nurse.  I often said that it was fate that put our two families in that same apartment on the other side of the world at the same time.

She, her husband, Micheal, and I became steadfast friends!  (This is them with my mom when she came to visit)  Then sadly, the day came when they had to move back to the states.  We kept in touch for several years, but I haven’t spoken to her or Micheal since the mid 90’s when Micheal was here in the area for some military reason.

He called when he was in town and we got together for a bit to catch up.  It was so good to see him and for him to see how the boys had grown.  (Looking at this picture, I’m guessing about ‘93 or ‘94 timeframe.  But sadly that’s the last time I saw either of them) 

I miss my friends and would love to find them.  And believe it or not, I’ve found LOTS of old friends on this here Internet thing lately.  So hopefully, I can find Winnie and Micheal Jones.  Last known to have lived in Fort Campbell, KY around the early to mid 90’s.  If you know either of these terrific people, please leave me a message.

I’m having quite the time trying to locate such a common name as Micheal Jones.  (I only remember that he spells Micheal slightly different than most)

If you’ve read this blog for more than a week, you KNOW how much I love beautiful weather and how much it refreshes my soul. Well, this past weekend, while the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. . . I was sitting in car dealerships. Not OUTSIDE in a lounge chair with a cold beer and a good book. Not OUTSIDE planting my Spring flowers. Not OUTSIDE period. Nope – my oldest child owes me BIG TIME. . . and he knows it.

My oldest child has had car problems for months now. All winter he’s fought with this car to keep it running. . . because HE HATES CHANGE! He’s not like most young men who can’t wait to go out and buy something shiny and new. Nope – he HATES letting go of ANYTHING that he owns.

His dad had given him his car when he was 16 years old, a 1993 Ford Explorer. That was 8 years ago. Chris is 24 years old now and I have to tell you. . . he sucked every ounce of “get-up-and-go” that was ever possible from that vehicle. He just would NOT let it go without a fight. Well, the car died. It died its last death. No more bringing it back to life. Almost 200,000 miles. Kaput!

So finally, on possibly the most beautiful day this year, it was time to shop for a new one. We’d been looking here and there for weeks now since we were fairly certain of its imminent demise. During that time (while Chris was trying to accept the fact that he was going to have to part with his dear old car – and believe me. . . it was a “process”) narrowed down WHAT it was that he was looking for and how much he could spend.

This is what we ended up with! It’s a Jeep Grand Cherokee!! I think he did very good, but then I’m partial to Jeeps. I’m positive that there were questions that we should have asked, some other way we could have handled the negotiations. (There’s always that ONE person that will always tell you what you SHOULD have done differently. Asses. Oops. Sorry) He’s happy with his first car purchase and I’m happy for him. (Now I don’t have to worry every single day if I’m going to get that phone call that he’s broke down again.) Reliable transportation – who knew it would be a mother’s dream?

One may ask WHY I was so involved in my 24 year old son’s first car purchase. I guess that’s only fair. But it’s because motherhood doesn’t just stop the day they turn 18 or the day they move out of the house. There are still lessons to teach your kids. And I think buying your first car is one of them. Sue me. I had logical and practical advice to pass down. Advice that I’d learned from people that cared. People that TAUGHT me.

This brings me back to my friend, Marty again. . . after all these years.

Hello Marty! Still has the same adorable smile that used to melt my teenage heart. It’s been so fun catching up with him and seeing pictures of his family. Marty and his family were very dear to me. But the reason that he’s been on my mind lately has nothing to do with our walk down Facebook Memory Lane (well, a little). Nope – It’s actually been about his dad. You see, it was his dad who gave me MY first car loan when nobody else would. All while walking my oldest baby through the evil ways and manipulations of car salesmen, I was remembering the lessons learned from my friend’s dad. You see, he worked for a financial institution that dealt with car loans for General Motors vehicles, and he was my only last hope.

I was just a teenage girl (19, I think) trying to make it on my own. He, of course, asked me all the pertinent questions about my credit (or lack of) (you gotta start somewhere, right?) and I promised him. . . I crossed my heart. . .I pinky swore that I’d make good on the loan. And he approved it for me.

I can’t tell you what a proud day it was for me when I paid that car off. I couldn’t wait to run tell him and to thank him for having faith in me. And I want to thank him again. “Thank you Mr. Huffaker! I’ve never forgotten how you gave me my first line of credit and how I held your advice so near and dear. Here, thirty plus years later, I’m giving my children the same advice. Thank you!”

Now I passed the same advice on to my child. Your signature is your word, and your word is who you ARE. I think he’s got it.

Plus, now he’s seen ME in action with the sharks (car salesmen) and he was, I think, surprised . . . AND impressed. Don’t mistake me for some weak little thing just because I’m female, blonde with big boobs and a Southern accent. I’ll take a car salesman ON! And don’t think I’m using any flirtatious Southern Belle charm. HELL NO – I’m head to head. Numbers to numbers. I don’t play.

Chris actually played the game quite well with me. We were a TEAM! We got up and walked out of negotiations over $225. We were leaving! I’m not going to be bullied. I’m not going to cave over $225. I went head to head with the dude that made the decisions (the one the salesman is always running to for approval). [This guy actually looked like he came out of an old black and white movie where he was some surly bookie with a cigar hanging out of his mouth while he punched at the adding machine with the ticker tape all over the place grumbling . . . trying to intimidate]. Try some other sucker old man!! I’ve SEEN this movie.

I’ve usually run about a year behind the times with each of these new technologies, but I do eventually find them and wrap my arms around them and love them gently.  Such is the case with the blog.  Blogs had been around a couple of years before I was prodded into checking it out.  In my conflict of Old School thinking and my love of New Technology, I was a little apprehensive about such a thing.  But when I was assured that it wasn’t a new version of online dating, I jumped in.

Now enter Facebook.  I joined this reluctantly too, but goodness the faces that have appeared from the past!  What fun it has been!!  So many friends from back in my high school days are on Facebook and we’re now “friends” again.  It’s been more than thirty years, but having moved away 24 years ago, I haven’t seen these people since back in the day.  So what a treat it is to see them again. . . well, pictures of them.  Close enough.

What got me started on this is a picture that my friend, Jimmy, posted on Facebook this week of my friend, Marty, and I in 1978. SO many moons . . . and wrinkles ago.  Look at those baby faces!

Boy, did that bring back memories!  Such a happy time!  Not that I’m not happy now.  Oh contraire.  I just remember being so young and so innocent and unassumingly HAPPY.  I LOVED my friends!  But seriously people, where were the 70’s Fashion Police?  I should have been ticketed for those glasses alone.  I think the only thing that’s separating me from the 60’s Flower Child is a flower in my hair.

This is Marty and I today. . . still friends after all these years, although I have not physically SEEN him since Dec. 29, 1983.  Yeah, I remember the date.  I’m a girl and that’s what we DO.

To add to this, I honestly stumbled on my old neighbors from that same year just a couple of weeks ago on Facebook as well.  ALL of my old friends were coming together again.

This is the Greene brothers, Johnny, Jim and Robert.  Jim and I were in the same class.  Johnny a year younger (we didn’t hang out much).  Then Robert, the baby, although he hardly LOOKS like a baby (he hung out at my house a LOT because of my sister).  I remember him at 13 being 6 feet tall and 170 pounds of solid muscle.  Even with him being two years younger during those tender teen years, I didn’t mind him hanging around cuz he was always so sweet and funny and entertaining (he could do that dance, the Robot, like nobody’s bidness).  Oh yeah, and he was easy to look at too.  They were a good looking set of brothers. . . and neighbors.  Yeah, my view didn’t suck much.

This is Jim today with his gorgeous wife!  And Robert. . . still adorable after all these years.  It has been so fun catching up with these guys and realizing just HOW MUCH time has passed has been totally blowing my mind.This whole walk down memory lane making me dig through photo albums and such is all Jimmy’s fault.  So I can’t leave him out. . . even though he’s always been a little on the shy side.  (Payback’s a bitch Jimmy – heehee) 

This is my friend, Marty, again and and my friend, Jimmy, in 1978.  My buddies. My pals. I loved them so much! But yes, still, the 70’s Fashion Police were MIA again or they would have banned that perm.  (You know I still love ya Jimmy)

This is my friend, Jimmy, today with his adorable youngest boy, Key.  It warms my heart to see him with that angel. . . all these years later.  After all the crazy stuff we all got into, the antics that we lived through.  It’s stunning looking back.  Thanks Jimmy for the glimpse back in time.  And I guess I need to thank that kid that developed Facebook who is now a gazillionaire.  Why didn’t WE think of this all those years ago.  We’d have never lost touch.

There are other friends I could show before and after pictures for, but that’s going to require more digging.

Who have you resumed friendships with due to Facebook?