Who Do You Think You Are?

Fourteen years ago, in the midst of raising four children, I began spending the wee hours of the morning working on genealogy for my father's side.  There was a mystery person in my tree that I was dying to find more information on and so coupled with my computer and a few Bibles, I began building my family tree.

My father passed away when I was 17 and he was only 50.  I never knew either of his parents or grandparents.  I really don't remember hearing him tell any stories about growing up other than they called him "Red" for his hair color.  I also knew he had a little sister, Betty Grace, that died when she was two as a result of cat scratch fever.

The person I was most interested in researching was my father's biological grandfather, "Grandpa Mac."  I had been to the parish where he resided 14 years ago to visit the court house and get as many documents as I could on the family.  Every time I ran into my grandfather's name, I hit a brick wall.  It was so frustrating.  All I knew was he and my great-grandmother were only married three years, he had my grandmother who was two years old and he died from an illness at 37 years old.  That's all I could find.  I have the drugstore bill so I know it was a lengthy illness to some extent and I found a court document that showed my great-grandmother was left with nothing after his death.  Can you imagine what she must have gone through.

Well because of the show on Friday nights, "Who Do You Think You Are?" my interest has been reignited.  With the convenience of my laptop, and high speed internet, and oh, my Keurig, I settled down to climb that family tree once again.

In one night - granted it took four or more hours, I was able to go back five generations!  I was beyond excited.  I found births and deaths and towns and marriages and occupations and oh, I was on  a roll.  My new friend was a website called, www.findagrave.com, (morbid, I know) and most often it shows photos of the headstones.  That was invaluable.  I also searched quite a bit on www.ancestry.com, but honestly,  at the beginning,  the grave marker site was remarkably informative!

So in regards to Grandpa Mac, I found that,  yes,  he did die at 37 and my great-grandmother was 15 years younger than he.  So there she was at 22,  a widow with a two year old.  I had to sit and ponder that!  Yes, I cried - just a little.  I also discovered Grandpa Mac's family was large with seven children but it appeared that they might have been a puny bunch.  One passed away at 2, another at 8, my great-grandfather at 37 and his brother at 41. To make matters worse, his mother, Miss Jane, was left to raise these children after a divorce from her husband who later remarried.  Who needs soap operas when you can delve into your own history!

So after getting to bed late that first night, I couldn't wait to return to my tree and see what else would be discovered.  I had just begun to look at census records and found them to be a perfect picture of history.  Seriously, after I would read one, I would sit and close my eyes and imagine what that household must have been like.  Ahhh!

The second day I was determined to find more information on Grandpa Mac.  I want to know what he died from, what his occupation was, was he perhaps married prior to my great-grandmother and so on.  I realized shortly after I began working,  that in order to get to the meat of the documents and "evidence" I was going to have to bite the bullet and pay for a membership with ancestry.com.  I only paid for a month and it was worth every penny.  Within five minutes, a picture - a portrait - of Grandpa Mac popped onto my screen and I screamed with jubilation!  "Well, hello there Grandpa!  It is so nice to finally meet you."  I stared at this precious man for an eternity.  Grandpa Mac now has a face to go with the name and a very nice face at that.  I looked at his eyes to see if I saw a resemblance to any of his offspring, then his nose, his bone structure, his mouth.  Oh, I am loving this!

As I continued to scour the census records, I came across the 1930 census.  Now let me back up a little here.  My dad was raised as an only child after the death of his baby sister.  In my mind, I pictured him in a quiet home with his mother, the strict school teacher and his father, the laborer in the sawmill.  He probably played with neighbors but basically a quiet childhood.  We often laughed at his culture shock when he married my mother who had seven siblings and were quiet the fun bunch!  Then Daddy had six children of his own.  Well, to my surprise, the census listed my father being one year and four months old and living with a host of family members; his mother, his father, his grandmother and grandfather (his grandmother had remarried), his uncle (who was only 11 years old and was always like a brother to him) and his great-grandmother!  Wow.  That changes everything.  I can't imagine the love bestowed on my father and the rich culture he grew up in.  I have not been able to pin down how long they lived in this situation but it plastered a smile on my face to know he had indeed lived in a large family setting and tell me, what's not to love about this precious little boy?

I continue to spend my spare time researching my family and I seem to be chasing more rabbits than I've ever chased in my life.  One clue leads to another, and then another and before you know it you are six and seven generations back.  I cannot wait to discover  what country my ancestors hail from.

I encourage you to dive in and check out your family tree.  Hey, there's even an app for that!

With a smile and a VERY happy heart,

Elle


Find A Grave link

Ancestry.com

Looking in the Rearview

In a matter of ten days, my oldest child, my son, my pride and joy, my hope -- that even though I am a screwed up individual at best, with lots of junk in my trunk, in spite of that, a child can turn out to be a  complete and whole individual who is happy, healthy and "normal" --whatever that is.  He restored my faith in my parenting skills and yet all along, I knew it was not me or my hubby, but the grace of God that helped us raise this boy into a godly young man.

He leaves hand in hand with his beautiful bride of nearly four years to pursue a new career in a new town in a new state. Do I have the tendency to dig my heels in and say, "no, please don't go,"-- you betcha I do!   I want to remind him how much it is my heart's desire not unlike most mothers, to keep my precious children and their families near me and my love until death do us part.

My family consisted of six children and my mother was from a family of eight children.  We were a crowd in and of ourselves but when you mixed in the relatives - oh the fun!  Our childhood was rich with family get togethers with aunts, uncles,  cousins, grandparents, and filled with crawfish boils, fish frys, BBQ's, Christmas parties, crabbing trips, Easter egg hunts, and lots of good cajun music to learn to jitterbug and waltz too.

My siblings have all moved away and have been gone for many years.  It saddens me that my children do not have the same opportunities I had to get to know my cousins and other relatives.  They all come home once or twice a year and they absolutely love each minute they are able to spend with each other, but it's just not the same.  I so wanted my children and grandchildren to be a close knit unit that would share wonderful memories much like I do with my cousins.  But, I do understand.

You see when I was young I wanted more than anyone or anything to graduate high school and leave my southern state and head to New York.  I wanted to travel the world - but that was not my fate.  My father died one month before I graduated high school.  I could not find it in me to leave my mother, so I remained here.  When I met my future hubby, he was an only child.  As mentioned earlier, my other siblings all left town soon after we were married.  As much as me and my hubby wanted to head to the northern states, our hearts would not let us.  I could not ask my in-laws to part with their one and only child and I could not leave my mother all alone.  So here we are 30 years later - and my children have an amazing relationship with their grands.  For that, I am thankful beyond words.  (Kleenex break...)

So knowing I once had those same ambitions, and knowing that we have already established a very close relationship with he and his beloved, I bid them farewell and wish them only the best! - with one hitch.  (Ha ha)  When they start having those grandkids, they better haul themselves back here before the sun goes down!

Good luck B & C - Momma loves  you dearly.  You have made me so proud.  Go get 'em and make your dreams come true.  When you look in the rearview mirror, I'll be smiling and waving but my heart will be sad.  If you love something, let it go.  If it was meant to be, it will come back.  Isn't that what they say?  Sniff, sniff.  Now, where is that semi-truck of kleenex I ordered?  Hmmmm.

With a smile and a happy heart,

Elle

Style in Every Size

If you have known me for any amount of time, you have been witness to my struggle and occasional victory with  weight loss.  Ugh, it is the hardest and most constant struggle I've ever had.

It began when I was young and  I didn't get to have any hand-me-downs from my sisters because I was larger than they were.  My third sister, that was only 12 months younger than I, wore a much smaller size than I did as well.   One day in high school when I was walking in my sexy little knit p.e. uniform and a male classmate hollered at me from behind to ask, "what are those dimples on the back of your legs?"  Enter - cellulite!  Next memory was when I was riding home with the most popular girl in our class of over 500, again in our favorite p.e. uniform, and I noticed when she shifted gears in her car, her legs were so stinkin' thin!  I looked at her legs and looked at mine and back and forth countless times. Enter - peer pressure!

 The kicker was when my mother told me she wanted to introduce me to an engineer where she worked, as soon as I lost 15 pounds.  I wonder what each of you are thinking at this point.  Wondering what size I was right?  Well, I'll tell you and I would honestly give anything to be that size again.  I was 5' 9 1/2" and weighed 140-145. Enter - Lack of self worth!

After the birth of my first child, I began to pack on the pounds due to stress, lack of sleep from a sickly little boy and severe post partum depression.  The depression is another blog post in itself.  I promise it is an amazing story and I share it as often as I can.  I settled in at about 65 pounds heavier than I was before pregnancy and lived contently for the next few years.

When we started planning for our second child, I wanted to start out healthier since I had gained 40 pounds with my first child.  I walked a mile a day on the treadmill and cut out all sweets and dropped 100 pounds pronto!  It felt so good.  I only gained 25 pounds with this pregnancy so I was looking and feelin' great!  My second son spent the first two weeks in NICU and was also a very sickly baby.  When momma's stressed, she eats!  And it's not healthy stuff, sad to say.  I packed on every last one of those pounds I had lost.  Back to square one complete with voices of failure shouting in my mind.

After seven years, God impressed upon us to have more children (again, another story, another day) and since I always have good intentions, I set out to lose those same dastardly pounds I had yo-yoed with the last 12 years.  Without sweets, I dropped 100 pounds and with added prayer gave birth to a precious baby girl.  Being kissin' cousins' to 40 years old, I was much wiser than when I delivered at 24.  I only gained eight pounds during the pregnancy.  My angel weighed 7' 11".  Life was great.  When she was seven months old, I conceived again and as you can probably tell by now, when I am stressed I turn to the pantry and plate section and console myself.  I was overwhelmed with four children; I was homeschooling (go ahead and say it...another story, another day, ) and the new little one was sickly too.

Several years later, medical problems forced me to have a complete hysterectomy and with that surgery came a surprise bonus of a whopping 25 pound weight gain!  It was instantaneous.  I couldn't fit in the same clothes I arrived at the hospital in.  All the research I had done, and I had not run across that tasty tidbit.  (No pun intended.)

Warp speed to current day...I have continued to gain and lose weight, I have at least five sizes of clothes in my closet at all times, I have fought demons, dealt with past failures and lack of self-esteem.  I have run to the mountain top and screamed "Hallelujah" each time I reach my goal and then on a much quieter note yell, "Oh Man, here we go again" when those pants get more difficult to button.  My friends love me through thick and thin and are oh so supportive.  My husband must wear rose-colored glasses because he is madly in love with me whether I'm itty bitty or big butt Bertha (no offense to any Bertha's out there).

I am blessed and I must remember my triumphs, my supportive family and friends as I once again tread those dietary waters.  I will repeat what I used four years ago when I lost 80 pounds for my son's wedding:  high protein diets.  It works for me.  With my other son preparing for his wedding in January, I need to get this horse hitched up and start on my journey.

Pray for me and feel free to share your scary scale stories too.

With a smile and a happy heart,

Elle