Photo Journal, no. 56 | Mothers Day

Michelle, 28 weeks pregnant, and Grandma with a flower in her hair

We took Grandma to brunch (er, lunch, actually) at the Hibernian again this year, like last year.  We seem to do all the family gatherings and monumental moments of coupledom at that little Irish pub whose authenticity is, as with all Irish pubs, suspect.  (However, as cabbage is served with breakfast, that's Irish enough for me.)  This year, we met Wolfman's mom, Sandra, and her husband Tommy as well.  I don't know about Wolfman, but I sure did enjoy myself, and I think the grand/moms did, too.  Sandra told us that when Wolfman was born he was a no-neck ham.  Days later, I'm still giggling over her word choice.  She also told us about coming home one day to find all the doors on her kitchen cabinets removed after some little man received his first tool kit as a gift; he was testing his screwdriver.  

I relish these tales.  Because, as I've mentioned, I do have an inkling I'm carrying a boy child, but also because even if we have a girl, she'll be like him.  (After all, didn't his niece get  suspended for bringing her new pocket knife to school and showing it off at recess, proud as a peacock?)  I don't know much about my man's childhood--I haven't seen too many photos and his stories are never specific enough to satiate me.  It's a delight, too, to watch Wolfman and his mama in the same room.  His character and nature may be his dad's, but I can thank his mom for his good looks and that absurd, wicked sense of humor.  Her eyes glimmer; I'm not sure I had ever witnessed that on a live person, had only read about it in books, until I met her.  

Next year will be my turn to be brunched and saluted.  To tell the truth, I cannot wait.  I'm already planning what I want--a trip to a berry patch and maybe a homemade strawberry pie while I put my feet up on the porch and drink sun tea?  Here's to next year.

Sandra & Wolfman