Getting Old

Today I left for the YMCA early to get in a workout before the boys had their Wiggle Giggle Smile class.  I got that workout in, took the boys to class and was feeling good.  It was only 10:15 and I was on my way home to get some stuff accomplished before heading back out this afternoon to do some shopping for a PTO event at our school with a friend.

My mind was wandering, the sun was shining and I got to thinking about my Papa, who turned 86 yesterday.  You might have heard that earlier this week, the oldest person in the world (or maybe just the USA) turned 116.  That made her 30 years older than my grandfather so I thought, "Well, Papa's got another 30 years in him then."  My mind wandered some more thinking about how vast an age difference 30 years was.  Then I started to do some more complicated math thinking about how old I was and how old that would have made Papa when I was born.

Thank goodness Walker has been reviewing double digit addition and subtraction this week so I was easily able to figure out that
 86
-36
50

FIFTY!!!  My Papa was only 50 when I was born.

I am only 14 years away from 50.

When I am 50, my third born will graduate high school.

My YOUNGEST CHILD will not graduate high school until I am 52!

Papa still goes into work every day.

I retired eight years ago.

Now, you tell me who is the old fart?

Happy Birthday to the BEST PAPA IN THE WORLD!

One of the trips to Disney World Papa took us on  - to stay at the Grand Floridian.

Four years ago with the youngest Lezzer grandkids and the great-grand children.  The four oldest granddaughters are missing from the photo - and we had two more great-grandsons born since then!

Papa and Maggie on June 30 of this year at my sister's wedding.  

Fwee!

Happy Birthday, Dear Willie!

My third born is three.

I don't know what to say about this boy.  Right now, he's a Momma's boy.  If he's hurt, hungry, angry, sleepy, happy, or one of the other seven dwarfs, he runs to Momma.  It's a blessing and a curse.

He likes to wear princess dresses.

He cracks me up every day.

He's scared of giants and locks all of our doors at night to keep the giants out.

He loves to help his daddy and is not afraid to try anything.

I'm afraid he may try to jump off the roof one day.

He's our 95/5 child.  95% of the time he is good, 5% - well that's the percentage we're worried about.

For those of you that may of missed it, here's his life (thus far) in photos.

Happy (belated) Birthday, Papa!

My Papa celebrated his 84th birthday this month.  You would never be able to tell that he is 84 years old.  This past July, he traveled with my Aunt and her three boys to Ligonier and met me and my kids at Idlewild for the day.  After a day of riding rides and swimming at Splash Lagoon, I was dragging.  As we were headed out of the park to our vehicles and as he pushed Whitaker's stroller, I thought "here I am in my 30's and I don't have nearly the stamina or good posture that he does."

Papa was born to first generation Italian Americans and spoke only Italian until he started elementary school.  He has a rich and amazing past that is the ultimate illustration of the American dream.  His father started a business in 1927 and my Papa works there to this day with his two sons and his nephew. 

His work ethic is phenomenal.  Not only does he work at the company, he comes home at night and plays with my young cousins and works on the farm, tends his garden and takes his grandkids on tractor rides.   

It is rare that I am at a loss for words, but when it comes to describing my relationship with my Papa, words are hard to find.  I love him in a way that I love no other.  His generosity, love and support has allowed me to place him on a pedestal as any fabulous grandparent should be.  On the rational, adult side of me, I know he is not perfect.  He can get grumpy (and that has nothing to do with age), he isn't the most politically correct guy on the planet, and he can be  impatient - but that's not the man I've ever experienced.  The man I know would do anything for one of his grandchildren.  For the first 16 years of my life, my sisters and I were the ONLY grandchildren in the picture.  For 16 years, I basically had he and my Grammie to myself.  And they did ANYTHING for us.

When my Papa bought a farm, he stocked it with animals for us to have.  In fact, if I remember correctly, he bought us a little pony before his new house was even finished and he kept the pony in his garage until they moved up to the farm.  Edna was a little black and white pony and we adored her.  Did we get her because we asked for her?  Nope - we got her because my Papa thought  "the girls" as we were known, would get a kick out of it.  Most of everything he did was because he thought we'd get a kick out of it.  And he is still doing it to this day.  At his age, no one would blame him if he sat back, relaxed and let others do for him.  Because of a variety of circumstances, the majority of my cousins are actually my kids ages.  In the last 8 years, my Papa has restocked the pond on his property, takes the kids fishing, turned the horse stalls into an aviary for pheasants for my cousin who is fascinated by birds, and a variety of other projects, "because the kids will get a kick out of it."  When I bring the kids in for a visit, he never fails to pile as many grandkids as he can in the truck or on the golf cart wherever they want to go.  A frequent request is, "Papa, can we go see the cows?" and the trip to see the cows turns into a trip to see the cows, then down to the pond to feed the fish and then to see whatever other surprises he has for them.

It thrills me that my kids get to have a small taste of what I experienced as a child when we go back to my hometown to visit.  Every good and pure memory I have has something to do with my Papa.

Whether it was him planting strawberries and raspberries for my sister and taking us to go pick them, gathering us up and taking him with us to the office on a Sunday evening, or taking us to the toy store at the mall in Hershey while our mom and Grammie shopped, everytime I think of him it brings such joy to my life.  He taught us to play Rummy 500 and it's a game we are all still addicted to.  We always take the opportunity to play over holidays when we are all together with him.  Our fondest memories of Rummy are playing in Florida.  One year, he had returned home to take care of some business while we were there on vacation.  He faxed us his "hand" to keep the game going.   It was awesome!

We had Whitaker baptized this past weekend and he drove the two hours to our house to celebrate with us.  He gave up a quiet afternoon at home alone where he could watch the Steeler's game in peace, to visit with us because his family is that important to him.  It is such an honor to be loved that much.

I could go on and on about the memories I have . . . he bought my sister and I Jordache dolls

 took us to Disney multiple times

and gave us everything we could have wanted (and most of things we didn't really even need).  Without his help, I would not be where I am today.

I fear that he does not know how much I appreciate everything he has done for me.  Not a day goes by that I do not offer a prayer of thanks to God for the gift that is my Papa.  And I pray every day that my Papa knows I do not take for granted his hard work and generosity.  I hope that he is as proud to my Papa as I am that he is my Papa.

For there is no greater Papa in the world!   And I think all of these kids would agree!

Please pass the jelly!