thirty days of thirty years: seven

Year seven, age six: September 1988-1989.

When I turned six I was in first grade at St. Charles grade school. By this time my brother and sisters were pulled out of Catholic school, per Mom's request, but Dad felt that it would be the best education for me. I really appreciate that my dad respected my mom's wishes for their kids and, at the same time, continued to make the choices that he thought would be best for raising us. 

I'm pretty sure my grandma, Grammie, brought cupcakes to my new classroom to celebrate my birthday that year. I loved that she did this, not only because I love birthdays but because it was a new school for me and I was very shy and it made me feel like, for one afternoon, I had an in with my classmates. 

Grammie and Popo lived about six miles from us growing up and they were incredibly involved in raising us, their only grandkids. For as long as I can remember they were retired so they basically made us their full time job. They would be our referees and our tutors, our chauffeurs, chefs and cheerleaders. 

My mom was their daughter and, as I recall, they didn't really have the best relationship with my dad. But, in the true character of my father, he didn't let that stop us from being very close to our grandparents. He took us to Sunday dinner at their house every week at 5:00, we celebrated Christmas at their house every year, we vacationed with them at their lake house and they came along on our family float trips with my dad's side of the family. When I was growing up, family was family to me, it didn't matter who's side of the family it was. I consider myself very blessed to have had a consistent, loving and supportive family unit.