Feminism Caroline's Way

I love All Saints--y'all have heard that before.  And I love having all my babies at All Saints.  What I don't love is having Kendall leaving All Saints, but that's a different blog.

When I first started as junior high chaplain, the babies were still in junior high and SK was a junior counselor.  I was so nervous that I would step on their toes (and I probably did--okay they'll probably tell you I stepped all over their feet and tried to take 1/2 their legs off), and yet each year when I would ask if they wanted me to come back, they said yes.  Each year one moved up until this year.

This year it was just SK and me.  It was so weird, and frankly a little (read a lot like I may have cried several times in my cabin) sad.  I missed having them all around; I missed seeing them be at All Saints; I missed seeing the ethos of All Saints seeping into their pores.

I tried to stay in touch with the three not there.  Boys are terrible at texting (terrible at texting me; awesome at texting their girlfriends) and Caroline, well Caroline is just Caroline. I'd go a few days without hearing from her and then get a text that read like this,

     Caroline:  Can I get electrolysis?

Or even better

     Caroline:  Winnie is bleeding
     Me:  Bleeding where?  (Keep in mind this dog was hit by a car this summer so that was not a ridiculous question.)
     Caroline:  From her vagina!!! It's so gross.
     Me:  We couldn't get her fixed because of her broken leg; doing that end of July
     Caroline:  Well what am I supposed to do?  Should I try to use a tampon?

After much laughter and perhaps a moment where I wondered exactly how that would work and was a tad bit curious to maybe see, I responded, no just try to wrap a towel around her.  I so miss my babies (I think).

Happy happy happy dance,  they decided to come to the closing Eucharist for Kendall's final day.  Remember how I said I often stepped on their toes?  I'm not going to tell you how, but within 3 minutes I'd flustered William...but overall it was wonderful and I was grateful to have them ride home with me--or so I thought...

We had just gotten onto 65 when Caroline says, "How many people can I have at my wedding?"  I shook my head from side to side trying to clear the confusion--last I heard she didn't have a boyfriend--but I had been gone a week.  Me, "I don't know; we'll worry about it later."  Caroline, "Well I've been thinking about wedding dresses..."  Now I don't know how we then moved on from there, but all of a sudden William said something about planning his wedding.  Caroline, "You don't get to plan your wedding--you're not the bride--just show up."  William, "What? And you are the one always yelling about equal rights."  Caroline, "Well for some things, and besides have you been thinking about your wedding since you were six?  Do you really want to go look at invitations and taste cake."  (I was a bit surprised he didn't jump on the cake tasting.)  William, "I'm just saying I should get a say."

It really took a lot of effort for me not to point out that a) they weren't marrying each other so neither could say whether he could or couldn't come, b) they were still in high school and c) this conversation was going nowhere.  Caroline was huffing and puffing (and she says I make a lot of breathing noises) and William was egging her on; I was wondering why in the world I wanted them to ride with me?  "I can't decide which kind of dress I want.  I think I'm going to want some sleeves.  Grandma thinks..." and at that I had to interrupt, "Seriously is there something you're not telling me?  You've been talking to Grandma about this?" "Mama," Caroline retorted, "It doesn't hurt to plan in advance. Now back to the dress, I don't like the tops of my arms."

I have no idea how I was now drawn in as though we were truly going to start looking for dresses, but out of my mouth came, "Well start doing push-ups.  They're great for arms."  Caroline, "I hate pushups; they're too hard."  William too was losing his mind and becoming part of this fantasy dress buying operation, "Just do ladies pushups they're easier."

Oh boy--Caroline reared her head up, "Are you saying women have to do easier things?  That's so sexist.  I can't believe you said that."  William, "Fine I won't call them ladies pushups I'll call them wussie pushups."  "NOW YOU'RE SAYING WE'RE WUSSIES!!!"  I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry---and I certainly didn't know how to change the conversation--thank goodness for ringing phones and arriving home.....

Part II
Last night Caroline informed me that she was going to have to go to Mexican restaurants for first dates because if she was annoyed by the way any man ate chips he had to hit the road.  She wasn't going to spend her life married to someone who can't eat chips right.  Just in case anyone wants to start practicing....

Boys and Prom are Way Worse than Girls...

Got up before 6 am to catch a flight back to Louisville so we could be home for prom (or as Chris

says so I can be a part of the prom paparazzi).  We got home around 11 am--William was heading to the shower and Boss was nowhere to be seen.  After checking in with the girls (that should probably read after I convinced the girls to make a grocery list, go to the store and then come home and make the appetizer and desserts I had promised to bring to the sophomore prom dinner), I found him asleep in the basement.  To be fair, he's been really sick so getting as much sleep as he can is a good idea, but I had just discovered he had yet to pick up his tux (which he only ordered on Wednesday!!!).  I tried to wake him up...

I gave up and came upstairs; a few minutes later he emerged wondering loudly why I was so worked up.  "I've got several hours; it's all good." he told me as he began scavenging for food.  "There's no food in this house," he yelled from the kitchen.  William chimed in at this point, "Yeah there's no food."  "I've sent the girls to the store," I defensively responded, "And besides I stocked the house before I left on Thursday."  (Truth is I continually stock the house but when you have 3 teenage boys living under your roof plus their friends, well, one day I won't make a daily full grocery cart Kroger trip.)  He walked into the dining room eating--I was a little confused how he was eating when we had no food in the house; I chose not to ask.  Instead I reminded him he needed to go pick up the car (he's borrowing my mother-in-law's--no truck this year), pick up his tux, pick up the corsages (William can't drive--he needed to get his too) and shower. He just kept telling me it would be fine.

Just then the girls walked in loaded down with grocery bags.  "DO NOT TOUCH THESE GROCERIES!" Caroline yelled as Boss approached.  That might as well have been a double dog dare you, he descended upon them and began pulling groceries from the bag.  They were both screeching, he was tearing open the chocolate chips...it wasn't pretty.  Suddenly there was an even louder scream as SK took a closer look at Boss, "Look at your hair!  Have you even showered?"  I should have stayed out of it, but instead I piped in, "No he hasn't and he hasn't gone to get his tux yet."  "Are you kidding me?" SK kept yelling.  "GO NOW!!"  He continued digging through the grocery bags.

He stopped foraging for a moment, looked up and said, "Why don't you just go get it for me?"  I thought SK's head might start spinning around. "Are you an idiot?  You have to try it on."  "Why?" "TO SEE IF IT FITS!!!"  I tried to explain to him that even though he had tried one on when he ordered it he still needed to make sure what they ordered worked, but I was interrupted.  "JUST GO!!"  "I will," he answered still not moving.

"You are totally stressing me out," SK continued.  "I've got to do your hair; you've got to...." "Wait, what?" Caroline sputtered, "Do his hair?"  "Yes I'm going to straighten it and put it in a man bun." (I was wondering how the Girlfriend felt about that but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut...) "Mom," SK turned to me, "Do something about him?  He's got so much to do and he's not moving.  I know I'm going to make you a list on the chalkboard and you can check things off."  "Nope," he said, (I was thinking he was going to take control of his own prom preparations but alas...) "not the chalkboard.  I hate the sound of chalk writing."  "I"ll get a piece of paper" Caroline contributed grabbing a piece and sitting down at the dining room table. "What do we need on it?"  "Not with pencil," said Boss, "I hate the sound of pencil on paper."  The things you learn about your children...


"Okay Caroline," SK continued, "Start writing--car, tux, corsage, shower." Boss piped in, "Add get ice coffee to it."  "What order?" Caroline asked.  "IT DOESN'T MATTER!!  HE HAS TO DO IT ALL!!" SK continued to shout.  "Mama, you've got to do something about him.  I do everything for him--make his coffee, pick up after him--he can't do anything for himself.  Fix it; I mean fix him. When you were gone I ground the beans, filled the coffee maker with water Thursday night and all he had to do was turn it on Friday morning and he didn't even do that!  What is wrong with him?"  (I thought but wisely did not say, "sounds like nothing; he's got you doing everything for him.")  She continued, "You've got to stop doing stuff for him; he can't do anything for himself.  You make his coffee.  While you were gone he just sat in that chair all sick like and said, 'make me iced coffee please.' I told him no so he says, 'you probably don't even know how to make it well' trying to use reverse psychology.  I still said no and then he said,'oh go ahead and try' AND I DID.  This is all your fault."(Somehow I knew it would come back to being my fault) "He's a little prince; I do everything for him and you are the one who taught me how to spoil people." (She has a point; I've written about it before-- I Like to do Things for Them )  Boss stood up and nonchalantly walked out of the room.  I guess we all assumed he was starting on that list...

(All this time I was texting both the girlfriend's mother and the after prom party mother grateful technology has not advanced to the point where they could hear the chaos going on--I suspect if they could have Boss may no longer have a date tonight and I'd be hosting after prom....)

Fifteen minutes later he walked back in.  I really think SK was going to have an apoplectic attack. "GO!!" and then in a fit of desperation she added, "Here's the deal if you will go right this minute I'll pick up the corsages."  And he ran out the door...

It's now 3:00 pm; we have the car, a tux, and the flowers--hoping the shower is soon.  He's calling SK the prom natzi, but I think he'll be ready.

Next Time I'm Staying Home and Sending the Credit Card

The girls came in from a run loudly declaring they needed new sports bras and running shoes.  The running shoes I believed (I think SK was still wearing hers from middle school and Caroline was wearing mine.)  I semi-doubted the sports bras until they took off their jerseys and showed me the well, lack of support these had. So Saturday came and full of fear and trembling I said, "Let's go bra shopping."

To be fair Caroline has been asking me to go bra shopping for months.  But I HATE bra shopping and I was already imagining what bra shopping would be like with my outspoken, lack of filter, 14 year old. (Yes I'm a wimp; last time she needed new bras I sent her with SK and my credit card--IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT!!!)  Perhaps I should have repeated that decision....

We walked into Target (Target on a Saturday--first mistake).  I herded them past the bathing suits and to the sports bra section.  SK seemed to be okay on her own so I said, "Caroline let's go look at the regular bras.  You only need one sports bra.  You have some that will work."  As we rounded the corner I quietly (emphasis on quietly) said, "We need to find a couple and go try them on because different styles fit differently."  "TRY THEM ON?!?!?!  I'M NOT TRYING THEM ON--THAT'S LIKE SHARING BOOBS WITH SOMEONE."  What does that even mean?  I didn't dare ask--instead I tried to reason with her--"Mama, you have lost your mind if you think I'm going to put my naked boobs on a bra that someone else has put on their naked boobs."  (I did not point out that any bra we bought could very well have been tried on by someone else....)

I looked up--relief flooded over me--back up troops were heading towards me.  Desi to the rescue. I didn't even care that she began the conversation with , "I could hear y'all clear across the store." "Desi," I pleaded with my eyes and tried to sound authoritative with my voice, "Don't you have to try on bras before you buy them."  Desi, "I don't."  Are you kidding me?!?!?  Did she miss my pleading eyes?  "But, but but," I sputtered, "What if you get them home and they don't fit?"  "You just have to buy new ones." says the single woman with NO CHILDREN TO EDUCATE.  "We're not doing that," I said as I tried to regain my maternal control (that I think I lost years ago).  Meanwhile Caroline is smiling sweetly at Desi.

Apparently Desi noticed my distress because she said, "Well you should try them on but you could do it over your clothes."  (Those words would come back to haunt us.)  I turned to Caroline who was on my right while Desi remained on my left--positioning that would become important, and said, "I think you're probably a 38 C; why don't you try to find some."  Caroline, "Why do you think that?" "Well because I'm a B and..."  I was cut off by loud uncontrollable laughter--seriously it was like a surround sound of humiliation--Desi, "Are you kidding me?  You want to be a B."  Caroline trying to speak through her hysteria, "You're a wanna be B."  "Just go find some bras."  (now that's a good come back...)

Just as Caroline was returning with a couple of choices, SK reappeared.  After hugging Desi, she looked at Caroline--"Who are you?  You cannot get that color--that is totally trashy."  (I think what she said was a little bit different but even I have some limits and would rather not repeat it...)  "Come on," she said, "I'll help you."  Flooded with relief that she was taking over I let the language go...

They returned with a few choices.  "Caroline, I am not buying bras without you trying them on.  It's my money."  (Yep, I desperately pulled out the only card I have--the wallet)  "Fine," she said, "I'll try them on."  I momentarily looked down--my head snapped up when I heard Desi screech, "She's trying them on right here.  Caroline, that's what old ladies do."  (Or Caroline I thought--told you those words of Desi's would come back to haunt us)  We finally settled on two and I sent her to find a sports bra.  "I'll see you tonight," I said to Desi, "And make sure you have plenty to drink--I may need to start now."

I decided to let Caroline pick out her own sports bra; seriously, I needed a break. How bad could it be? SK and I started walking off to finish our list--as we were walking she says, "Aren't these the ugliest bras you've ever seen?"  "Why didn't you get different colors?" I naively asked her.  "They don't make this size in good colors--this is the size old ladies wear and they don't care what they look like--or nursing mothers who are just going to throw them out anyway, or me."  I had to stop pushing the cart I was laughing so uncontrollably.."tell me I'm lying--you know it's true."  (Did I mention NONE of us speak in hushed tones EVER!!)

We kept walking and ran into just about everyone in the world we knew (and who now probably know all of our bra sizes).  Really wish I had run into one precious young man earlier--his first words to me, "Mother Katherine you all are too loud."  Amen love, amen. His mother tried to tell him that wasn't nice to say. "But you are so right," I told him thinking "I really wish we'd run into you about 30 minutes ago..."

I'd like to say that ended my humiliating shopping trip to Target, but alas I'd be lying...next time I'm just sending the credit card.  And we still have shoes to buy....

I Love My Kids-We did something right--don't know how

Just in case anyone is wondering--I didn't just become neurotic.  In fact, if anyone wants to commiserate with Chris I've been neurotic since the very beginning--and he still married me!!!  Just a quick recap--when we got married a well known (internationally known) reproductive endocrinologist told us we couldn't have children.  (He still can't believe it, but my daddy shows him pictures...)  Well, in case you've missed it--we had four in 4 1/2 years--so I guess he was wrong--or God has a whole other plan...

Well, hearing that news makes you crazy--but we got pregnant with SK fairly easily and not trying--we were a little surprised (read TOTALLY SHOCKED) and then I miscarried (a story for another blog).  We then had Christopher and I knew I wasn't done. Chris, my wonderful amazing completely supportive (emotionally and financially) husband was not quite as certain. Well, I started lobbying--and here comes the crazy me...

I started telling him about how we had to have another child.  I'm going to admit right here this is painful and an awful argument especially since I have friends who have fallen into this category, but I used as a reason to have another child that if one child died I didn't want the other to be alone--I thought they should have multiple siblings for support.  He didn't necessarily buy it, but we have two more children (Caroline will explain she is one of the  99% birth control failure rates--yes she told ALL of Collegiate 8th grade).

It's been hard; it's been financially difficult-emotionally, physically and all the other things difficult but it's also been absolutely the most life giving wonderful experience of our lives.  (An Example)

So tonight some of my neurosis has come to a positive place--I said to Boss, "I can't wait to get SK home tomorrow but I know it might be hard for you; you've been the oldest for a year.  It will be different; we have to get ready for that. Y'all might fight more than usual."  Boss, "Mama, I just want her home.  I need her home."

And then later--after SK finished her final exam of her first year (and can I just say she's Dean's list for the whole freaking year--yes I'm shouting it silently from the rooftops because she wouldn't want me to tell anyone, but I am so incredibly proud and it wasn't easy--she worked for it--) Caroline sat in the kitchen with the phone on her knee speaker on with SK and they were talking about the next few weeks.  She told her how she might go to prom with someone who might not have a date.  Boss came in from playing basketball and told us all about playing and the people who were there.  William slipped through telling us about prom dinner plans.  It was as if nothing major had happened.  As if we haven't been separated. As if this was just another night at the Doyle's.  But it's not.  We have already started the separating--we have already had one year of one of us being apart from the others and the next three years will go far too fast for me.  But for now, well for now--tomorrow I leave to get SK, and SK is connected to the others--to the ones we know as Boss, Willie Wonka, and Carolina--to the multiple siblings--to the people who make us all complete. Connected to the people who love the most regardless of dean's list, athletic awards or anything else. None of that matters we are connected just because we are family-- Tomorrow we're all together--for better or worse--as a unit--completing one another--the O'Doyle's.

I know one day they will go their separate ways, but for now we are the O'Doyle's and we did something right.

We Don't Play Board Games

Okay, I admit it; sometimes I want to be the family I picture in my mind--the slightly crazy imaginative mind.  You know the kind of family that sits around the table playing board games, drinking

This sort of looks like poker...just sayin'

lemonade and singing kumaya--you know that sweet Doyle family that smiles at one another adoringly as we patiently wait our turn. That's in my mind; we don't play many board games, (we tried when we were first married, but I may have turned over the scrabble board when I started to lose...), but I do like games, sooooo--I sometimes play manipulative games....

Last night I walked into the den where Chris and William were sitting and asked, "Okay it's been two days.  What do you notice?"  Two days ago I got my haircut (after 10 weeks of not having it cut) and then yesterday I picked up new glasses.  I really thought that would be the dead giveaway since just that morning Chris had asked me what checks I had written and I reported on the one I had written, "For the eye doctor."

They looked back and forth at each other with that look that says, "We better get this right, but we are SOOOO being set up."  I could also see their minds racing realizing they were also now in competition with one another. William hesitantly asked, "Uh, did you get a hair cut?" (See he knows how to play this game--this may not be the first time we've played it.....)  "YES! Two days ago." William looked over at Chris like, "Yeah, dude I got this one.  Ante up ponyboy!"

"I also got new glasses today." I smugly announced.  Chris trying to regain his position of man of the house who knows how to deal with women (or at least the crazy woman he married) said, "Well you have to admit the hair isn't that different, and aren't those glasses just like the ones you've had before?"  "No," I responded, "These are tortoise shell."  "So were the others," he mistakenly shot back.  "No," I said, "Those were darker." Chris decided to pull out all the stops, get out of his comfortable chair and walk over to me acting like he was gazing at the new me.  It was starting to work--but oh no--"Yes those glasses are the same.  They look just like wayfarers which you had before."  (So I guess we should give him credit for knowing what I had before, but these were clearly not wayfarers....)

He looked closely and said, "You're right and that shape is perfect for you."  He confidently walked (read strutted) back to his chair looked over at William and said, "That was pretty good wasn't it?" William looked up at me probably thinking, "Seriously what sin have I committed or will I commit that made God give me to these two lunatics?"  He looked back at Chris and said, "Nah, I think you're still in the doghouse for at least a week."  (I think he had decided he was folding his hand recognizing there was no way he was even still in the game--now he was just relishing in Chris losing.)

Chris, determined to win, gave it one last try, "See the reason we didn't notice was because your inner beauty so outshines your outer beauty--which you of course have--but the inner beauty of your heart and soul blinds us to the outer beauty."  William's jaw dropped in total amazement-- Chris looked over at him and said, "Well?"  "Yeah," William responded clearly blown away (by hot air?), "That was good."

I smiled as I turned to go to bed knowing that really I had won....as I left I heard Chris say to William, "I've still got it.  Take lessons about the ladies from me."

Just another night with the O'Doyles--we don't play board games....




Disclaimer--we all laughed throughout--it was all in fun....

I Am the Piggly Wiggly Mama

The other day I was stomping around and pouting about my lack of a clean and orderly house--I wrote about it--I Want to Be.  What I didn't write about was--well read on.....

I started thinking about how I would have NEVER left my room any way except immaculate.  I was TERRIFIED of my mother.  That petite woman could look at me, her eyelids would flutter, and I would freeze shaking in place wanting to take cover but knowing any movement would be seen as disrespect..I have no idea what I thought she would do, but I knew I didn't want to find out! (I was so terrified of her that years later when I was in a store pushing a stroller with MY two children in it I froze when I forgot to say "yes m'am" when she asked me something.  I quickly corrected myself--yep she had that kind of power.)

As I entered the bathroom I thought, I had to clean my bathroom every morning before I left for school--full out--comet the sink, glass plus the mirror, wipe up the floor--every single morning. (In college I did this everyday when I lived in an apartment with my good friends.  About half way through the year I walked in on them laughing about it.  "Why didn't y'all tell me it was weird to do that?"  Their response, "Why would we do that?  You're cleaning our bathroom every day."  Well, I thought they were my good friends....)  My children's bathrooms have spit in the sink, things left out all over, mugs next to the tub, but there are no towels on the floor because they're in their bedrooms on the floor.

Back into their bedrooms I went stepping over the clothes on the floor (dirty? clean?  Who knows but I'm pretty sure they'll wind up in the hamper instead of being put away.)  The sheets and blankets were either crumpled on their beds or also on the floor--no army inspection for them.  (My friend Lynn is still traumatized by the time she was sitting on my bed when my mother walked in--we were not allowed to sit on our beds ever!!!)  There were dirty dishes on bedside tables--multiple dirty dishes--I humphed.  How many times have I told them not to eat in their rooms or at least if they do to please bring them down?  Clearly not enough times...

In my displeasure I sent them texts hoping the texts would send terror coarsing through their bodies. Based on their responses--I didn't think they did.  (Based on the fact the same towels and dishes were still there two days later, I'm sure they didn't.)









The next morning, (the morning after my stomping and pouting) I walked into the kitchen after the children left for school.  OH NO!!! My piggly wiggly mug was sitting on the counter BROKEN!!  Who had done that?!?!?! (Caroline was safe; she was still upstairs sick in bed.) I sent the boys a text...



T

That evening all three were in the kitchen--I walked in; Boss froze and tried to hide the peanut butter jar behind his back. "Mama, I'm sorry...I couldn't find the other peanut butter.  I just took one scoop.  I'm really sorry."  (I have been known to hide piggly wiggly peanut butter in my room....I'm not good at sharing.) Just then Caroline looked down, "Who broke Mama's piggly wiggly mug?"  Me, "William did."  Caroline looked over at William silently willing him to make a run for it, "Are you crazy?!?!?! You admitted it?!?!?!"  William, "Not until I was gone."
(Who said that boy wasn't smart?) All three looked back at me and remained frozen in place, shaking but not daring to make a move....

I smiled; finally--finally I found a way to terrorize my children.  And then I started to laugh as I thought about the absurdity of the situation.  This is how I terrorize my children--not over neurotic housecleaning--over Piggly Wiggly merchandise, and then I thought, I wouldn't want it any other way.  This is Growing Up Doyle at its finest--Growing Up Doyle with a Piggly Wiggly Mama (in a house that could be mistaken for a pig's sty!)

When You Think About Marriage--A Letter to the O'Doyles

Dear O'Doyles,

I was walking by myself on the beach yesterday and started thinking--maybe it's because I won't have you all for Easter.  Maybe it's because we let Caroline go to New York with her friend (no you may

not have my debit card number--good try!) and Boss go to the beach with his girlfriend.  Seriously, what were we thinking?  Daddy even said, "I don't know about this."  I said, "My parents always let me bring my boyfriend to the beach."  To which he replied, "Well clearly there's something wrong with them."  Then I reminded him he also took his girlfriend to the beach--which is an hysterical story but one I can't tell.  I can bring home a stray dog, run up credit card bills and he won't divorce me, but I'm pretty sure if I made that story public I'd be served by Monday morning----anyway, y'all aren't all here, my heart hurts, but I know it's normal and you're growing up.

So I was walking and I remembered sitting at the dinner table one night in Lynchburg when Daddy was out of town.  Babah was with us.  SK was in 3rd grade and she asked, "Mama, would you rather me marry someone of a different race or a different religion?"  I thought to myself, "I'd rather have another glass of wine--"  She added, "And you have to choose one."  (She knew I was going to try to weasel out...)  Four pairs of eyes were intently looking at me waiting for me to impart my wisdom (that was back when y'all thought I knew everything), I swallowed hard and answered as honestly as I could. Daddy and I have always promised we'd answer any question you asked as honestly as we could--(there were some that were real doozies--remember William and the sex ones?)  "Well, first I want you to marry someone you love, but here's the thing--our faith has seen Daddy and I through a lot. Without our shared faith I don't know how we would have gotten through some of the medical issues we've had, the moves (I didn't add financial strain--you were too young, but I'll add that now). I always knew Daddy prayed about things and he knew I did.  We knew we each made decisions based on a faith we shared, so I guess I have to choose religion."

Y'all now know it's WAAAAAY more complicated than that, but I still believe our shared faith has seen us through and continues to see us through, but yesterday as I was walking I thought I need to add some more to my answer.  (I am not saying I want you to get married anytime soon despite the fact I send SK pictures of reception sites....) Here's what I want to add.  Marry someone who adores you--marry someone you adore; marry someone who makes you want to be as good of a person as they already believe you are, and make sure you marry someone who shares your priorities for life whatever they are. For us it's been education and family. You know the sacrifices we make for your education--Daddy in particular.  He's worked hard and gone without for himself.  I'm not saying it to make you feel guilty--y'all have always been appreciative, I'm just telling you that if we didn't agree--well we'd need that faith for sure because the financial strain would be--let's not think about it.

And family--last week Daddy knew I needed to see my sister, so regardless of the fact he'd been traveling nonstop for weeks, he never said a word.  (That is not to say you're marriages don't have to come first, and we try to make ours a priority) But what I really thought about yesterday was Daddy

driving to C'ville to get SK.  Some people are probably surprised that he is driving 30 hours over a 72 hour period so SK can be here at the beach with us for Easter.  I'm not surprised in the slightest.  It matters--it matters to me and it matters to Daddy.

I love you all to the moon and back and back and back and back, and y'all love each other just as fiercely (Sibling Love), but one day you may meet someone who makes your heart stop, someone who completes you in a way we never could.  I look forward to meeting those people, to loving those people, to welcoming those people into our family (they have no idea what they're getting into....and you know if Caroline doesn't like them she'll run them off within a week). So now my answer to SK's question all those years ago is more complete.

Happy Easter--I love you,
Mama