Grandma Lists

There is a little fruit stand in our town, where I love to take the girls weekly to by our produce. I love it because of the primarily locally grown produce and specialty foods. They love it because of the candy section in the back. Our tradition has become that after we get the rest of our groceries, we go to the back of the store to pick out a special treat for the week (assuming everyone was on good behavior.) Today, Miss Sweet Potato, chose candy raspberries and blackberries. I was particularly excited because that candy always reminds me of my Grandma Carol, my mom's mom who passed away when I was six.

That got me thinking about what else I remember about her, which made me think of (and call) my Grandma Margie, who is still alive and kicking. And it made me things that always make me think of her.

So here are the random things that make me think of my grandmothers:

Grandma Carol-candy raspberries and blackberries, candy carrots and peas, cups with animals in them, the smell of Coty lipstick (although that memory could just be from my mom saying that-does Coty still exist?), cigarettes, air-conditioning, old cook books

Grandma Margie-mice figurines, tuna noodle casserole, miracle whip, rainbow cake, The Enchanted Forest, the smell of Design perfume, diet coke, shops at the coast, mice figurines (I know I said it twice, if you know her you understand)

But what makes me particularly happy about this is that at least one of my daughters will be reminded of at least one of her grandmas by random everyday things. I can't wait to find out what they are.

Happy Easter

Today is Easter Sunday. It is the first major holiday since the death of my mother that we are celebrating without trying to recreate what she would have done. It is also a really hard one, because as devout Christians, Easter was a really big deal at our house. My memories of preparing for Easter are just as intense as my memories of preparing for Christmas. But with that extra sense of urgency, because for those of us who are Christians, this is the day that commemorates the great miracle. This is the day that Christ broke the bonds of sin and death, and set free all who will believe Him. With this miracle He gave us everlasting life. After the events of the last year, I find myself reflecting on that wonderful gift in a whole new way.

Over the last forty days, as I journeyed through Lent, I had a really hard time getting into discipline of the season. Usually, I love this practice. It's a call to refocus and rededicate my life to Christ. But this year, I had a hard time even going through the motions. This morning after church, I realized that I have been living my life in a Lenten like state for nearly ten months. Even during the initial shock of hearing about my mom's death, I didn't doubt my God, and my faith remained unshaken, but I did wonder why. What part of God's plan could this possibly be? Even news that should make me happy, seemed to barely bring a smile. In recent days, I've started to wonder if I was just becoming bitter. I've had to make myself numb, because I just don't want any more pain. And then I wonder, how will that effect my ability to be the mother my children need?

But then little things started to happen-an encouraging note from a stranger, the lady in front of us at the Starbuck's drive-thru paying for our whole family, because we were kind enough to let her go in front of us, and an encounter with my little girl where I realized (probably because of all she's been through) she has a level of compassion and empathy far beyond her almost four years. These three events coincided with Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter morning. Each reminding me of the precious love that comes from my Savior. Each slowly reawakening in me the joy that comes from knowing that God loves me so much, that He sent his Son to die a horrible death in my place. That Christ has broken the bonds of sin, and that I, an imperfect human being, will share in the everlasting life. And this year I have extra joy, because of my parents' faith in Jesus Christ, I know that they are rejoicing and celebrating with him now. And when I do finally leave this life behind, I will celebrate with them, and all who believe, for eternity.

Happy Anniversary

Today marks my parents' thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. It would also be my mother-in-law's sixty-eighth birthday, at the time of her death, she and my father-in-law had been married forty-five years. It seems somewhat amazing, in this day and age, that both my husband and I have parents who were married to each other until death parted them. And while there were differences in how my parents and my in-laws approached various aspects of marriage (say division of labor, conflict resolution, and child-rearing) both sets of parents set an incredible example of the essentials. Without any doubt, they showed my husband and I how to be committed to each other, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live.

Pahlee tan I doh falimming?

Last week, Tee's preschool teacher pulled me aside to ask me if I had ever considered having Tee screened for speech therapy. To be honest, the answer is yes. Tee is hard for even me to understand. It's not that she doesn't communicate, in fact she's a very clear communicator, but her diction and annunciation are not. Her nickname Tee, comes from what she used to call herself, but even now when she says her name, it starts with a "T," it actually starts with a "K."

The word "please" is a two syllable word when she says it, and that isn't even when she's being dramatic. She doesn't lisp, she just doesn't use the "s" sound at all. Most people ask me to translate. (For instance, the title of this piece is exactly how she would say, "Please can I go swimming?") Sometimes this has worked to my advantage, especially since after the death of my mom I began swearing a lot when I felt stressed, but that is another parenting issue.

Since this wasn't a surprise, I immediately called our district office to find out the process for getting young children tested. I figure a few months of therapy will redirect what is essentially a cluster of bad habits, and this won't even be a problem by the time she starts elementary school. Her screening appointment isn't for three weeks, and even though I know it isn't that big of a deal, I keep processing this new challenge over and over in my mind. I'm lucky that between my sister and a really good friend, I have been able to talk through my feelings and strategize what to do next. (Believe it or not, had it not been for some inside pointers from that friend, I would most likely still be sifting through layers of bureacracy at the district office.) But even with that support, I am really missing my mom's council.

My mom would shine in this type of situation. Not just for her children and grandchildren, but she was the kind of friend who got the first call whenever someone had an some kind of issue with a child. She was known for giving advice in an empathetic way. But more than that, I miss being able to talk to someone who can give words to what you are struggling to say. Someone who can do that because after thirty years of knowing your ups and your downs, how you react under stress, and when and how you are headed for a break down, knows what to say and do to keep you focused on the current challenge.

The good news is that, although I miss hearing the words come out of her mouth, I have all that she instilled in me to keep me pointed in the right direction. Because of her example, even without her step by step guidance, I know what I need to do to for my children.