(Editor’s note: As I was finishing up this edition of your hometown newspaper, I received, in the middle of the night, a text from my son-in-law telling us our fifth grandchild was born … QUICKLY! With that in mind, I hope you can enjoy some of the irony in this week’s column, which I didn’t change after hearing the news.)


I hope everyone had a great Easter weekend. What was originally planned as a lazy weekend, in preparation for the day this week our newest grandchild made her arrival into the world, turned into a wonderful weekend with little rest.

Friday I was planning on my usual “sleep until 3 p.m.” after being up all night putting the weekend edition to bed.

After being asleep about 2-1/2 hours, I sensed the presence of a “little one” standing next to my bed.

“Poppie,” one of my grandsons said in a low voice, as if trying not to disturb me, but actually hoping I woke up.

The moment my right eye opened, all attempts to be nice and quiet ceased.

“Poppie, get up now. You can sleep later. We’re here. I saw your Wave Runner. Let’s go put it in the water,” he said.

My mind, still somewhat in a fog, was asking, “What are y’all doing here?”

I knew there was a possibility of the Houston clan coming down at some point during the weekend. I had heard through the grapevine, prior to crashing on my pillow Friday morning, that the talking grandson, not the spittin’ hippie newborn or the dancing queen, twirling three-year-old, was trying to talk my youngest daughter into “just driving down to Rockport.”

At the same time my oldest daughter, with whom we Face Timed with several times during the weekend, was wishing baby Paige would decide to enter the world “now”.

Needless to say, I was jolted out of bed Friday after little sleep with the usual “Hop on Pop” routine, which has resulted in only one bruised rib since the “tradition” began.

I ended up burning a tank of gas in the Wave Runner Friday afternoon flying around the ski basin and Aransas Bay, many times with a child onboard hooting and hollering.

I also had two firsts this past weekend.

I don’t remember the last time I attended church on Good Friday, or missed an Easter Sunday Mass / church service.

This year I did both.

Throughout my married life, if my memory serves me right, we never attended Mass on Good Friday because we were always traveling somewhere. It was either to grandparents when the kids were young, or to one of our kids’ homes now that we’re grandparents.

I enjoyed the Good Friday Mass, but it was quite long.

I can pretty much guarantee you I’ve never missed being in church on Easter Sunday, until this past weekend.

I always loved the Easter Service growing up because that’s when I got to see everyone who only went to church on Easter and Christmas!

Yes, when I was a kid, the Easter Sunday service was a social event!

Sunday morning we decided to get up and run to New Braunfels to be at my sister and brother-in-law’s home for a big Easter gathering, which was a great opportunity to see my mother and father, as well.

It was somewhat “Easter like” watching my mother rise from her wheelchair and walk through the line as I walked behind her just in case her legs gave out.

(Note: she had a major stroke about a month before Hurricane Harvey and took an unplanned “helicopter ride” from New Braunfels to San Antonio.)

Driving three hours there, for a three-hour visit, and then driving home in time for what I thought last Friday would be the only “thing I needed to go to” outside Good Friday and Easter Masses, proved to me I’m pretty much in control of … well, not much!

In the meantime, I’m keeping my phone close waiting for “the call” telling us Paige is on the way.

Can’t wait to see her big brother’s face (and, of course, Paige!).

Until next week, have a good week.

Mike Probst can be reached at publisher@rockportpilot.com.

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