Anniversary Memorial in Atlanta

We travelled to Atlanta for the one-year anniversary of the passing of Chris' brother Brian. Unfortunately, Chris experienced a Big Ol' Disaster at his job and, for the first time in our marriage, could not come home from his business trip as planned. My father-in-law came to the rescue: he caught a ride with a neighbor of his who happened to be coming to Charlotte for the weekend. He arrived here and one hour later we were loaded in the van and driving back to Atlanta! This way my father-in-law could drive during the times I sat in back with the shrieking baby instead of my being a danger on the road, trying to drive while experiencing that surge of mama hormones from all the baby's crying.

During our weekend stay, we helped take care of the aforementioned neighbor's cat, Tripper, whom we visited numerous times more per day than the requested twice. It was every time an adventure met with ebullient screams, "We're going to visit Tripper!"

On the last morning of the trip, Mary carried the cat to me, announcing, "I want Tripper to be our cat!"

I got the kids outdoors in their grandparents' very kid-friendly back yard to run off energy often. I ran them in races up and down the very long and sloped driveway (only a few skinned knees were procured on the trip downward).

They played ping pong with willing participants.

On Saturday morning, I had the pleasure of meeting my dear friend Elaine (and latest baby, Simon!) for coffee, having not been able to connect with her on one of these visits for at least a year and a half. I brought my three kids, she brought two of her four, and a good time was had by the little guys.

After coffee, we walked around an outdoor plaza to visit longer. John and her eight-year-old boy ran around playing soldiers (or something!), hiding behind trees and columns, and following us as stealthily as they could with a case of the giggles. Above, I finally caught a picture of John darting out from his latest hiding spot.

Meanwhile Mary climbed anything that was vertical. Elaine remarked something about how Mary sure does like to climb and I replied, yup, I'm not exaggerating!

On Saturday evening, my parents-in-law hosted a lovely reception in honor of Brian's memorial. Brothers Tim and Mike were able to come, as were many of Brian's friends from Nashville. As always, my in-laws know how to put on a beautiful party with delicious food. I think a good time was had by all and it was a real comfort for the family to spend this weekend surrounded by Brian's loved ones, instead of being all along with sorrowful thoughts. Tears were shed, but laughter was heard often.

Above are the kids dressed for the reception. I had brought the children outside to play and get out energy without being underfoot during the last hour of party preparations. But within one minute, Mary had dirt on her dress because the kids were (understandably) digging in the giant dirt pile (what else?). And I was reminded of Beatrix Potter's Tom Kitten, when the mother cat foolishly releases the three groomed and dressed kittens while she completes her final preparations of brewing tea and making hot buttered toast, such that the kittens lose all their clothing and are covered in dirt, and are sent to bed for the party.

Uncle Mike teaching John to play guitar

The pole in the den always provides the best entertainment for the children cousins!

Meanwhile, Chris was stuck in California trying to extinguish that Big Ol' Business Disaster, the size of which was about the size of California's notorious wildfires. He was staying up nearly around the clock, being on conference calls that would last nearly the night through, guys sleeping for a measly three or four hours (or not at all) before getting back on task. At one point, Chris' mom asked me, "So Chris really isn't going to surprise me and burst in the door [to be at the Saturday evening reception]?" I almost burst into tears and said, "No! He really is stuck working!" But then (can you see it coming?) . . .

. . . Chris did surprise us! He called me late Saturday night, after the party was concluded, saying he'd received permission to catch a red eye and arrive in time for the memorial Mass Sunday morning. Pop-Pops, the children, and I were sipping coffee in the sitting room of the house when we saw a white taxi pull up at 7:30 a.m. The children ran to the window, they couldn't figure out who was here, Pop-Pops wondered if the van was at the wrong house, and I tried to act cool and not grin. The above photo was taken amidst shrieks of joy when the children figured out that It Was Daddy!

So much happiness to be reunited! Then John ran upstairs to find Grandmom and tell her that Daddy was here, and she came down the stairs asking over and over if that was really true . . . and there were so many tears of joy that followed. What a gift.

Chris still had to work tremendously. The only way he was able to come to Atlanta was to be right back on conference calls literally as soon as Mass was over, all that day, twelve hours straight (one call!) the next day, and so on.

The whole gang visited the graveside after Mass and saw the beautiful new headstone.

The rest of the weekend was spent with much time playing outdoors (the kids dug in that dirt pile with lacrosse sticks for hours).

John almost entirely chopped down a wide tree stump (don't tell him that it was rotted and soft), about which he is very pleased and now tells us that "when I'm a teenager, I want to be a basketball player and a lumberjack, and when I am a grown-up, I want to be a monk and a farmer."

During these outdoor play sessions, I'd sit outside in a chair, reading a book. I noted to myself my relaxed reactions to this third baby. Now, the first baby had his own little sensory things going on and he would not let his bare skin even touch grass till he was nearly two years old. Then second baby would let me sit her down outside and she'd stay still and play and happily let me get twenty or thirty feet away while I did gardening. This third baby was off like a shot. She'd crawl into the woods and sit near her siblings digging the dirt pile. I'd run over every so often to take some wood detritus out of her mouth. In the above photo, you can see the tiny red dot that is Margaret having (repeatedly) crawled the full width of the driveway over to the trailer, which she'd then pull up on and cruise around.

We drove home on Tuesday afternoon and the times with Margaret sleeping were a lot better than the times with her awake.

At five, Chris had a business call he simply had to take, we were not yet home, and Margaret was screaming so loudly and so protractedly, Chris knew he couldn't be on the call in the car with us. He had the idea to drop the rest of us off at Olive Garden for dinner while he took his call in the parking lot. It wasn't until I was getting the children settled that it crossed my mind that I would not have been able to do this before, nor to feel fairly relaxed about it. As a mother of one, going to a restaurant with one baby seemed to require two adults. I think motherhood is likely slowly lifting weights and one's strength grows incrementally all the time, yet one often thinks one is at the limit of one's abilities. But now when I look forward and wonder what four would be like, while I don't know, I feel some fresh confidence that I'd probably figure it out, just like I have one, two, and three. Anyway, I got through dinner and while I wasn't relaxing and sipping piña coladas (I was working to keep those three happy, occupied, and quiet), it went very well.

And now, home, sweet home.