It’s been a tough couple parenting weeks in these parts over here in the desert.
As I said in my Instagram #givethanks post a couple days ago, when the going gets tough, the depth of gratitude I have for the parents who raised me and Dave overwhelms me. Like, bowls me right over.
How in Heaven’s name did they raise nine kids each?!?
…who are all best of friends.
That doesn’t just “happen.”
Through thick and thin they pushed and praised and prodded and prayed. A golden childhood like Dave and I had isn’t just “lucky.” I am forever grateful for all the sleepless nights, the second chances, the unconditional love, the guidance they deliberately pleaded for from Above to make it happen.
I love them forever.
My parents included. I still wonder how they made it look so effortless when we know they were working g hard! So much, so respect!
One thing this pandemic has made me appreciate is how certain family experiences connected me to my cousins and siblings and how much effort went into making them happen. They are very important, and no one really talks about the effort and how to do it. Thanks to you and your parents for working to educate us on this!
The same with my parents and in-laws. My husband is one of nine children. Seven boys and two girls. The girls, #1 and #3 in the line-up, now laugh and say that they used to cry when their parents brought yet another brother home. I’m the youngest of six. My parents faced many challenges, including my mom dealing with cancer at the young age of 39. At the time the doctors told my dad that she had six-months, he never told her that. She lived another 18 years. I was seven when she first got sick, and 25 when she passed, and while there were hard times, the good times wholly outweigh them. The cancer didn’t define her or the childhood that she provided my siblings and I. Both sets of parents were great role models.