My grandparents had 18 kids. Yep, count 'em -- nine boys, nine girls. Crazy people, those grandparents 'o mine, but I'm told Grandpa thought that Grandma was put on earth to have babies. And have babies, she did. Eighteen. Blows my mind.
Of his siblings, he's the only one to have children, too. So his parents had six kids, and 18 grandchildren. All from the youngest child. Crazy. And my dad only had one brother. Imagine the shock when he met Mom's family the first time. He actually said he thought it was great, but I can't fathom it -- they had to eat in two shifts cause they couldn't fit 'em all at the table at once. You'd think you'd have had to pick him up off the floor, but he swears he thought it was great.
Eighteen kids. I have three, and I am bonkers half the time but eighteen? Two of the boys have the same middle name. When I asked Mom how that happened, she said she thinks they forgot that they'd used it before. And one of the boys was named out of the obituaries. Yep -- they couldn't come up with a name, so they grabbed some dead guy's name.
I guess that was an early form of identity theft.
And so, in honor of my Irish Grandpa's favorite holiday, here's an adorable green and white polka dot dress, coming to you from pinupdresses, on ebay. Not vintage, but close enough to pass. Guaranteed to bring the luck 'o the Irish, and a pinch or two, too!