What?!? Or How Kids Can Drive You Crazy!

I have a beautiful daughter. In fact, I have a wonderful son as well, but sometimes they make me stark raving mad!

When I was a teenager and into my early twenties I made a pledge that I wouldn't be like my mom. Always telling my kids what to do, how to act, how to feel. But the curse works. I have become my mother.

My early twentyish daughter is bright, beautiful, talented, and absolutely maddening! Never in my life have I known someone who is so hard on their friends. She is constantly complaining about them. I have come to believe that no one will ever live up to her "friend standards". They don't talk to her enough, they talk to her too much, they don't understand her, she is tired of their childishness. You name it she has bitched about it.

One of her personality traits is that she is serious. Life is heavy for her. Knowing this makes me sad, and this is where I turn into my mother. I want her to snap out of it. Be lighthearted and excited about her life, but she just isn't. When someone asks her about college or some other great thing in her life she says, "It's all right." With all the excitement and emotion of a tortoise. Lighthearted she is not. Now if something remotely sad happens, then the emotion comes out. Drama about unhappiness is plentiful.

Some of the issue I have is that I am the opposite. I am probably too lighthearted. I enjoy many things. I hate being sad! Watching a tear-jerker movie is like a root canal, and I avoid it at all costs. My issues with my mother came from the flip side of my daughter and I. My mother wanted me to be more serious, less excitable, more practical.

Couldn't there be a happpy middle here? I don't want to tell her how she should feel about life, but I want her to experience everything to the fullest and appreciate the pure joy of living. OK, maybe that's not a happy middle, but life just can't be that heavy.

My husband has a similar personality to my daughter, so I suppose that's where she got it from. However, he is a man, so there is less drama. But there are times when I just want both of them to show some enthusiasum for something besides the negative.

Alright, I will get off my Pollyanna pulpit.

Good-bye, Grandma!

Shortly after I posted my blog yesterday, my mom called to let me know that my grandmother had passed away during the night.

I thought I was prepared. I thought I had reconciled long ago to letting her go. I mean, she was really gone for some time already. But, I still cried. I still thought about the world being without her. Last night I thought, "This is the first night of my life that my grandma wasn't part of my living universe." It gave me a strange, lonely feeling.

I am leaving in about a week to attend her funeral. My mom scheduled the funeral for after Christmas, so we all wouldn't associate the holiday with Grandma's death. I don't know if that is possible. I think I will always associate it with the beginning of my winter break.

Christmas is a big holiday in my family. I love it too, but the big expectations make for a big let down when its all over. I have always hated going back to work after the celebrations and time off. That jolt back to reality is always a slap in the face.

There is part of me that feels comfort in the getting back to normal. The return of regularity so to speak.

I think I feel that way about saying good-bye to Grandma. I want and need to do it, but I can't wait for the return to the normal routine. There's some guilt for you.

My Grandmother

My mother told me yesterday that my 92 year old grandmother is most likely in the last days of her life. This was not a surprise, as my grandma has been on a downward spiral for at least the last 5 years. She had a stroke. Since that time she has been living in a time when she was young and her parents were alive. She has not really recognized the people of our time who come to visit her, including my mom, her daughter. In fact, Grandma has been convinced that my mother is actually her mother.

This news my mother shared with me has filled my mind and heart with memories of my grandmother. My grandmother was a huge part of my life growing up. My mom and I lived with my grandparents after my parent's divorce when I was 3. Then we moved right next door to them, Mom remarried, and we stayed right there next door.

Grandma is standing in the upstairs hallway of the big house on Main Street. I am about 4 and I am having trouble sleeping because of nightmares. Grandma is under the light, pulling on a lock of her auburn hair, telling me a story to calm me back to sleep.
It is a cold, wintry day and my mom is busy sewing for someone. I am bored and pestering. Grandma gets out some old hats and shawls, and a china tea set and we have a tea party. We talk in our best fake English accents. This is where she gives me the nickname that inspired this blog: Deboria Pea Mildred Anne.
Saturday morning, and I run up the back steps of Grandma's house to the kitchen. Grandma is kneading dough for the bread and rolls she bakes every Saturday. She lets me "punch" the puffy dough down.
Fourth grade music class in my elementary school. Grandma is leading the class in a rhythm exercise, "Ta, Ta, Ti, Ti, Ta," we chant. How many kids can say they had their grandmother as a music teacher?
Grandma is accompanying me on the piano as I practice to sing "The Lord's Prayer" in church on Sunday. It is the first time I will sing in front of a real audience, and I am petrified. Grandma pushes me forward and holds me up with her piano plunking.
Sunday afternoon in summer. My cousins and I are in the backseat of Grandpa's Fury going for a Sunday Drive. Grandpa and Grandma are in the front seat telling us stories from their youth about the places we pass. We feel a connection to the past.
The last semester of college, and I don't have the money for tuition. Grandma pays if for me, allowing me to complete my education, and begin my career as a teacher.
In four days I will be leaving my hometown to move across the country to my first real job as a music teacher. My car is unreliable, to put it kindly. Grandma lends me the money to buy a reliable car, setting in motion my career, and the grown up phase of my life.
The deal on the house will close in one week, my husband and I don't have the $2000 needed to make this happen. It is probably evident how we were able to purchase the home we brought our babies to... Grandma.
The corduroy quilt is in the colors of autumn with accents of black. It is large enough to use as a spread on our queen sized bed. Grandma has stitched it especially for us.
There are several elderly people in the pleasant room. Grandma is sitting in a recliner. She looks at me blankly at first, but then recognition sparks and she is obviously happy to see me.

This writing is all about my Grandma and me, but she was so much more.

As a teacher for nearly 40 years she taught in one room schools, then in a grade school, then music in elementary, and finally as a substitute teacher. Thousands of students have felt her influence over the years.
Music played a key role in her life. She played both the piano and organ. Sundays were spent traveling from one tiny country church to another to play the organ for services. Even with a broken arm at one point!
The county Homemakers group met each month and Grandma rarely missed. She exhibited flowers and crafts, and worked at the county fair every year until she just couldn't anymore.
Grandma's skill with language and her great memory of things long ago, made her a natural to write a column in the local paper about the things she remembered from her past.
The Great Depression made a lasting impact on Grandma, as it did on others who lived through it. She was thrifty, to put it mildly. String, wrapping paper, foil, rubber bands, she saved it all, including money. Her large 5 bedroom house was packed with all the things she felt she needed to save. We chuckled at this and thought how needless all this saving was. However, because of her thrifty ways she was able to help out others in our family, not just me, when they needed money.
After retirement from teaching, Grandma still kept busy. Playing organ at churches, Homemakers, Ladies Evening Circle, Historical Society, writing for the paper, gardening, and travel to name just a few of her activities.
There were times of tragedy for Grandma. When she was a young woman, her best friend was killed in a car accident. Probably the lowest point for her was when her 40 year old son, and his 18 year old son died in an accident on the same terrible day. We all lost part of ourselves that day, but Grandma, more than the rest. "Parents shouldn't outlive their children or grandchildren" became a very real experience for her. But, Grandma overcame her grief and soldiered on with life.

During a trip to Germany and Austria in the 1980s, Grandma filled a small bottle with water from the Rhine River and brought it back to me. She also brought back an Austrian Crystal necklace with my initial on it.

Grandma understood my romantic, impractical ideas and thoughts. Even with her Midwestern practicality. She encouraged me in all I did, practical and not.

I guess that's why I love her so much.