First Holy Communion

I was thinking of my cousin Hannah this afternoon on my drive home. She's 8 years old and in 2nd grade. This spring she'll make her First Holy Communion. Her mom, my cousin Carrie, is super excited to get her the special dress, white mary janes, little patent white bag and all the other goodies that go along with the special day. Has it really been 20 years since my First Holy Communion? It was 1986. I was so excited. This is such a big deal in Catholic tradition...and not just because of the dress and frills but because at that young age, you eat up everything about school and religion. It's all so new and put forth in such a way that you anticipate the sacrament the way you do Christmas presents.

In my family, we celebrate afterwards with little parties. My sister and my brothers got little parties complete with yummy food, checks and cards and when I was old enough to comprehend this I cried and felt gypped because I never had a party. We lived in New York so my day meant mom, dad, brothers, sister and grandparents. It was too far a trek for the extended family to come with presents and money. Now I look back and think how most people don't remember their First Holy Communion. Most people don't remember the party nor the gifts they received. Because my day was stood out and involved a smaller more intimate gathering I remember it vividly.

I distinctly recall the adorable doll my Grandmom and Grandpop gave me. Never a huge doll fan, this one was gorgeous and wore a lavender dress with matching shoes, had long blond hair and bangs and a little bonnet. When I gave my dolls to my sister later, this one stayed. She will forever exist in my head as the Communion gift from my father's parents. They also gave me a check for $50 that my parents and I thought could be put toward a new bike. That is exactly what we did...Drove to Toys R Us and bought my awesome pink Huffy bike. That bike lasted for years.

It was silly to cry about not having a party or not raking in tons of gifts. My celebration was more significant because no one else but me celebrated it in New York and it involved the most important people. And after 20 some years I can still say - those gifts will live on in my memory.

Nanette's

It felt like we went to Nanette's all the time, but probably it was about twice a year that my mom and Nana took us down to New Castle DE for dresses at this warehouse of sorts. It looked like an abandoned factory and when we walked in, were greeted with rows of adorable handmade dresses that seemed to go on (and up) as far as the eye could see. Off to our left - in a top secret employees only room - sat tons of miserable looking old ladies sewing away. Is it possible that at the young age of 5 I had my first peek at a sweatshop? I'll never know.

Looking back, these handmade dresses were gorgeous, the likes of which you don't find today. I sure hope my mom saved a few. Despite the exquisiteness and affordable prices of our glamour, the place still seemed very far (likely 45 min. away) and coincidently, did not have a potty...at least not a public one. Tons of parents hauled their small ones to this warehouse to try on the new fashions. You meant to tell me a children's "boutique," one that clearly markets to the parents of toddlers and girls and boys who can never "hold it in" doesn't have a public restroom?!

Such was the case. So mom and Nana took to bribery: Hold it in, behave, and we'll go to McDonald's afterwards. If it hadn't been for Happy Meals, all hell would have broken loose inside Nanette's. I wouldn't be surprised if other families employed this tactic as well.