Elvis did a movie called "Girls, Girls, Girls". In "West Side Story" one of the characters sings about enjoying being a girl. In "South Pacific", the sailors sing "There is Nothing Like a Dame". Can you tell I have girls on the brain??? Today my son and daughter-in-law learned from an ultrasound that baby #3 is another girl (which is what they have believed all along). That's a bunch of females in one house! And I love it!

This event has reminded me of an incident that occurred when my son Jimmy was very young (5 or so). I was explaining to him that the reason he didn't have a brother or sister was that some people just didn't have babies as easily as others. In the course of the conversation, I happened to mention that "I sure would have liked to have a little girl, too." He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, in all the seriousness he could muster, "One day I'll give you a little girl, Mommy".

The day in the fall of 2005 when they had the ultrasound for their first child, Jimmy called me at school to give a report. "Remember that promise I made years ago? Well, you're going to get your little girl!" While I was excited about the news, it was the fact that my child remembered a promise made at age 5 that truly touched my soul. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I promptly went to the "pearl lady" at my school and ordered a set of white tiny baby pearls for my first granddaughter.

Katherine Elizabeth arrived in January 2006, and I entered a world of pink and lace and princesses, which was far different from Match Box cars, Star Wars, and G. I. Joe. Having a little girl to spoil was so much fun. We decorated the nursery with pastel colors, a green and white toile of Mother Goose rhymes, and yellow and white walls...and it was a thrill to sew some of the bedding and curtains.

Then, a little over a year ago, my son called again to tell me the results of the ultrasound for baby #2: it's a girl! Conferring with my "children" (because I truly think of my daughter-in-law as my child), I plunged into sewing red gingham and ladybug bedding for the second arrival. Naturally, I again conferred with the "pearl lady" and ordered another set of tiny pearls, pink this time. Margaret Josephine arrived in October 2008, and now I had two little girls!

Now, today, I've learned that baby #3, due in January 2010, is another girl! Just think of the tea parties to host, the doll houses to furnish, the doll clothes to make, the fairy tales to read, and "meals" to cook with three of them! And, yes, I've already called the "pearl lady" to order another set of tiny pearls, lavendar this time, for the third girl.

I am on Cloud Nine, and I just had to share my feelings!

Jimmy's Birthday

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic today because 32 years ago today I gave birth to my beautiful son.

The year before I had carried a pregnancy about 10 weeks and miscarried, and this pregnancy was filled with joy, excitement and anxiety. We knew that this might be our only chance for a child, short of adoption, so we were nervous. The pregnancy was as "textbook" as it gets, with movement, positioning, everything happening exactly on time. It was so perfect, in fact, that we came to believe that it was a gift from God.

On June 28, a horrible accident occurred a few miles away, a ruptured gas line causing a house to explode, killing one of ECU's coaches and his wife. For several hours I was involved in various phone calls with Athletic Department personnel about the accident and about one of the athletes, a wrestler, who was badly injured by the explosion. Naturally I was a little "keyed up" when I went to bed and had a hard time sleeping.

Around midnight, I began having occasional contractions (not at all regular) and having frequent trips to the bathroom. By 3:30 AM, I was sure something was happening, so we set off for the hospital. While they determined that I was not in steady labor, they did decide that my water was leaking, so I was checked into the hospital.

Officially, labor did not really begin until after 6:30 AM, and it progressed quickly. By 9:20 AM I was definitely in some sort of transition. When nurses determined at 9:30 AM that the baby had crowned and "I can see the hair on its head", I was wheeled to delivery. A few pushes later, I heard the loud cry of my son. The time was 10:04 AM, and it was not only his due date, it was almost exactly the same time he was conceived months earlier (yes, I knew exactly when he was conceived). Since there had been no drugs administered, he was wide-eyed, alert, and very angry about being so rudely handled!

The next day I was requested to meet someone at the end of the hall (he could not come onto the Maternity hall). It was the wrestler who was injured in the explosion, sharing some of his flowers with me and congratulating me on my new baby before he went home to recuperate.


Over the next years, my son became a dominant part of my life, perhaps more so than some because his dad had to work so many crazy hours that I was often mother and father. Was he a perfect child? Definitely no. Was he a good child? Most of the time. Was he a challenge? For sure, especially in the teen years! Was he the most precious gift I ever received? Absolutely.
And, when my husband died, my son truly became a man, being strong and supportive for me.

Now my son is a mature, responsible man with a wife, two beautiful daughters, and another child on the way. He is a good husband and father, a respected and well-liked member of the district attorney's staff, and overall a good man. He is the joy of my life and well on his way to being the man his father always thought he would be.

The Swing

The day was uncommonly warm for early March, even in the South. Bright sunlight, brisk winds, and temperatures in the high 60's had tempted her out onto the screened porch to have lunch. As she ate, she surveyed the yard from her comfortable chair, intent on curling up with a good book and staying where she was all afternoon. Her plan changed, however, when she noticed the swing moving slowly in the wind.



Long past needing a coat of paint, the porch swing hung from the metal A-frame that once supported a child's swing set. Shaded by a sprawling pecan tree, its chains were rusty, and the boards were faded white. There it sat, gently rocking in the wind, seeming to be inviting her to come over.



Putting lunch aside, she decided to accept the invitation, so she crossed the porch, walked down the steps and across the stone patio, and stepped out onto the grassy lawn. With no ceremony, she plopped herself down in the center of the bench seat and gave a small push with her feet, putting the swing in motion again.



For a few moments, she was content to sit just as she was, gently swinging back and forth. She looked up to see a jet flying high overhead, its contrail cutting a sharp white slash across the Carolina blue sky. An occasional fluffy white cloud floated by, and she remembered the joys of the childhood game of finding objects in the shapes of the clouds. She watched with amusement as a cloud frog turned into a dragon. Wanting to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, she twisted sideways, placing her back and head against the chains and stretching one leg out on the seat. The sun was warm, but it hurt her eyes, so she closed them. The wind ruffled her hair and tickled her face, causing her to smile. Between the warmth and swaying movement of the swing, she relaxed.



Lulled by the gentle rocking of the swing and the combination of sun and breeze, her senses seemed to sharpen. All around her, nature was playing its symphony. Bare tree limbs clicked and clacked, leaves on the magnolia whispered, a variety of wind chimes tinkled in different octaves, birds called to each other, and squirrels chattered as they chased each other up and down the pine trees. The quince bush was blooming, its salmon pink flowers brightening the corner of the yard. Her neighbor's Bartlett Pear was heavy with white blossoms. The lawn, which had been so brown all winter, was beginning to turn verdant green. The dogwood and pecan trees wore the fresh light green of early spring. The air was sweet with the smells of new grass and flowering trees. She smiled again as her senses picked up each sound, each sight, and each smell.



As she absorbed all the sensations around her, the swing continued to move slowly back and forth. It reminded her of the pendulum on a grandfather clock, marking time with each cycle. Suddenly, she was transported in time, seeing her life flash by as memories flowed around her.



She saw the yard 34 years earlier when she and her husband met the real estate agent and toured the property, nothing like it looked today. Moving day had been hectic, more so because her husband had been called in to work, leaving all the supervising to her. Their dog had explored and surveyed every inch of the yard, staking his claim to his new home. As that spring moved into summer, the yard witnessed many cookouts on the grill, evenings spent discussing decorating, landscaping, and their future.

Months later, they were gifted with some plants, dug up in her husband's home town and transported to them by his parents. The magnolia had been only six feet tall when planted, but it was now over 50 feet high. The dogwoods in the front and back yards had also been barely saplings, but now they were taller than the house. The quince and forsythia bushes had been, likewise, scarcely more than potted plants then. Her favorite was the maple, a tree marked by her mother-in-law the previous fall with a ribbon because of its flaming colors. It was the highlight of her autumn each year to watch that maple turn into glowing reds, oranges and yellows.

Time fast-forwarded to a June a few years later when she sat in the yard, anticipating the birth of their child. A year earlier she had miscarried, so she had been nervous as the due date approached. She remembered an evening cookout when she told her husband of a dream she'd had the previous night in which she had seen their child, a boy, so clearly she could describe his face. Only a couple of days later, they brought home their son, carrying him around the yard to introduce him to his home.

The swing continued its rocking motion, and time again shifted. She saw wading pools, water slides, squirt guns, and tiny friends celebrating birthdays in the yard. The swing set was a gift from a grandparent on one of those birthdays. In later years, the yard and the swing had witnessed many birthday parties. The yard became a galaxy far, far away for several years in a row, while boys dressed as Star Wars characters saved the universe. One year the yard had been an island where blood-thirsty pirates roamed, searching for hidden treasure, conveniently buried in a freshly tilled flower bed. Another year, a war had been fought with teams of boys opposing each other in their G. I. Joe gear. An Indiana Jones party resulted in the backyard being transformed into caves to crawl through, a sandpit of snakes to leap over, and other obstacles to maneuver.

During the next few years, the yard and the swing had become important parts of every day, whether it was playing in the sandbox, splashing in a wading pool, or swinging on the swing set. She saw her son on the glider he loved, soaring high into hyperspace in his Millennium Falcon. She saw him in red Superman boots, splashing in rain puddles. She saw him building roads for his Tonka trucks or landscapes for his G. I. Joes in the sandbox. She saw him trudging through snow deeper than he was tall, just to get to the swing set which was buried in snow.

Back and forth she rocked in the swing, taken completely over now by the memories rushing over her. There was the autumn of the "invalid" cookout, due to the fact that her husband and the next-door neighbors had all had accidents the same week and were in a variety of casts and slings, attracting avid attention by passing motorists. There was the pig pickin' held to celebrate her belated college graduation at age 45. And, of course, there were prom and high school graduation parties when their son reached those milestones. Sadly, two beloved dogs were buried under the pecan tree, near the swing. Somewhere in that time frame, the swing set had been replaced by a porch swing as a gift one Mother's Day.

Clouds began blocking out the sun, and she shivered as the swing continued to move back and forth. Her mood chilled as she began remembering the time several years earlier when this swing had been shared nearly every afternoon with her husband. Chemotherapy kept him from enjoying the sun, but he loved sitting in the swing in the shade of the pecan tree. She would come home from her teaching job, throw down her things, and sit with him in the swing. His time was short, and they both knew it, so this was precious time, holding hands, sometimes talking, sometimes silent, and rocking back and forth in the early spring.

Vividly, she recalled the day in May when, shortly after the funeral, friends had gathered at the house. One young couple, who seemed to instinctively know what she needed, had handed over their young son. Cuddling him close, she had walked away from the others and sat in the swing. For a few moments, she cradled him in her arms, feeling the warmth, the life, in him. In the midst of her loss, she found comfort in rocking the baby to sleep in the swing.

How many days in the following months, she wondered, had she sat in that swing, feeling her husband's presence beside her? Sometimes she talked to him, hoping he could hear as she struggled with the loneliness, the pain, the loss of serenity and peace of mind, and the decisions that had to be made. Other days she shared joys with him, like the day their son proposed to his future bride.

Two years later, she went to the swing again when she returned from the out-of-state wedding of their son, sharing the moment with him. Again, she went to the swing when their son became a father. And, it was only natural that, when the young family brought their new arrival to Grandma's house for the first time, she would take that beautiful new granddaughter to the swing, introducing her, in a way, to her Grandfather.

The swing continued to sway, and her memories leaped forward again to another time when her serenity and peace of mind had once again been shattered. She had returned home from errands to find an intruder in the house who not only robbed her but pointed a gun at her, turning her house and her life upside down. No longer did she feel totally comfortable in her own home. Pressures overwhelmed her: pressures to put in a security system, pressures to sell the house and move closer to family, and pressures about testifying in court. All the pressures hovered over her like a dark cloud.

The sun disappeared behind clouds that darkened with the threat of rain. Opening her eyes, she shivered with the new chill in the air. She shook off the memories and roused herself to present day. As the first raindrops fell, she got up and slowly walked across the yard and back to the screened porch. She glanced back at the swing as its pendulum motion continued. Who would have thought, she mused, that a faded, rusty old swing could become a time machine?