I don't know what's going on with me lately, but come Uterine Explosion Day, I'm an emotional mess. This is a new, not-so-welcome change. I suspect it has to do with me getting old.
Anyway, last week while we were buying breakfast, the cashier taking care of Mez reminded me so much of Grandma Mary that I got all teary-eyed. Damn you, Uterine Explosion Day! You know, we were so blessed to have Grandma in our family and she lived an amazing life, but sometimes I miss her so much it's like I've been gut-punched.
I managed to get myself under control without spilling any actual tears and sat down to eat breakfast.
One of the best things about SHOT Show is how friendly all of the people are. Truly, there's not a single stranger among the 62,000 attendees - everyone is that friendly. So, of course, a couple of older gentlemen sat down at the table next to us, noticed our credentials and struck up a conversation.
We had a wonderful time talking to them - they live in Colorado, too - and as we cleaned up to head over to the show, I got all teary-eyed again. This time because I miss Grandpa Moe. Double damn you, Uterine Explosion Day!
Grandpa Moe died long before I started blogging, but I still miss him horribly. He gave all of us granddaughters theme songs and would sing them to us all the time. Mine was "Chantilly Lace", Ashinator's was "Pretty woman". He used to call Grandma "Doll" right up until the day he died.
Grandma and Grandpa could cut a rug like no one's business and some of my fondest memories are of them dancing together.
All I can say is Thank God that today isn't Uterine Explosion Day or I wouldn't have been able to make it through this post.
But, Grandma and Papa, I miss you still.
Showing posts with label Grandma Mary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grandma Mary. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Taco Beans
It's been a while since I've done a food memory. Like, over a year, I think.
Last week, groceries were a little "lean" in our house and so RCC had do scrounge something up for dinner for himself.
Sidenote: don't you think Chopped would be so much better if the chefs had to cook out of a typical end-of-the-month cupboard? You know, half a loaf of bread, moldy cheese, milk that's not quite bad, and a cupboard full of stuff that still in there because no one likes to eat it? Not *that* would make a good show!
Anyway, he made himself some canned refried beans with spices in it and ate them with cold corn tortillas. He made a joke about it on Facebook, saying he was eatin' like a poor man. But when I came home and saw the beans he made and smelled the cumin, I knew I had to make some Taco Beans.
It took me a couple of days to get around to it, but I finally had my taco beans (alternatively called bean tacos or fried bean tacos, depending on who in the family you're talking to) today for lunch. Truly, a poor man's lunch, but fabulous. Grandma Mary used to make us taco beans when the larder was bare. We always had beans and tortillas and spices, so we could always make taco beans. I don't think she necessarily loved them, because she told me that Little Lita (her mom) would always make them when the beans went sour, just so they could get another day's meal out of them.
She may not have loved them, but they rank right up there with fried tacos for me. And fried tacos are pretty much my all-time favorite Grandma Mary food on the planet. Top three Grandma Mary foods:
If you're interested, here's the recipe. It's quick and easy and you can feed a fair number of people (remember, it's poor man's food).
Once the beans and paste are well mixed, spread on one half of a tortilla with the back of the spoon, no more than 1/4" thick and fold in half.
In a skillet, heat the lard until hot enough to fry (about 1/4" or less should coat the pan). Place the "tacos" in the hot lard. Flip once to cook evenly on both sides. It should take a minute or less on each side to cook through.
Remove from the skillet and drain on paper towels. Gingerly pry open the tacos to add shredded cheese and chopped onion.
It's probably not the best thing on the planet to eat, but it's a whole heap healthier than a Big Mac, I'm sure. I'm a big fan of lard, I make no apologies for it. I don't cook with it often, but there are some dishes that *have* to be made with it. If you wanted to make this a more healthy meal, I suppose you could substitute olive oil or something, but it won't taste as good. But then, if you've never had taco beans, you wouldn't know the difference between cooking them in lard or olive oil.
My belly's happy and I've got a smile on my face - Grandma Mary may be gone, but I can still enjoy the memories of cooking my favorite foods with her.
What are your favorite comfort foods or food memories?
Last week, groceries were a little "lean" in our house and so RCC had do scrounge something up for dinner for himself.
Sidenote: don't you think Chopped would be so much better if the chefs had to cook out of a typical end-of-the-month cupboard? You know, half a loaf of bread, moldy cheese, milk that's not quite bad, and a cupboard full of stuff that still in there because no one likes to eat it? Not *that* would make a good show!
Anyway, he made himself some canned refried beans with spices in it and ate them with cold corn tortillas. He made a joke about it on Facebook, saying he was eatin' like a poor man. But when I came home and saw the beans he made and smelled the cumin, I knew I had to make some Taco Beans.
It took me a couple of days to get around to it, but I finally had my taco beans (alternatively called bean tacos or fried bean tacos, depending on who in the family you're talking to) today for lunch. Truly, a poor man's lunch, but fabulous. Grandma Mary used to make us taco beans when the larder was bare. We always had beans and tortillas and spices, so we could always make taco beans. I don't think she necessarily loved them, because she told me that Little Lita (her mom) would always make them when the beans went sour, just so they could get another day's meal out of them.
She may not have loved them, but they rank right up there with fried tacos for me. And fried tacos are pretty much my all-time favorite Grandma Mary food on the planet. Top three Grandma Mary foods:
- Fried Tacos
- Taco Beans
- Potato Enchiladas
If you're interested, here's the recipe. It's quick and easy and you can feed a fair number of people (remember, it's poor man's food).
- garlic
- chili powder
- cumin
- onion powder
- pinto beans (already cooked or canned)
- tortillas
- lard
- cheese
- onion
Once the beans and paste are well mixed, spread on one half of a tortilla with the back of the spoon, no more than 1/4" thick and fold in half.
In a skillet, heat the lard until hot enough to fry (about 1/4" or less should coat the pan). Place the "tacos" in the hot lard. Flip once to cook evenly on both sides. It should take a minute or less on each side to cook through.
It's probably not the best thing on the planet to eat, but it's a whole heap healthier than a Big Mac, I'm sure. I'm a big fan of lard, I make no apologies for it. I don't cook with it often, but there are some dishes that *have* to be made with it. If you wanted to make this a more healthy meal, I suppose you could substitute olive oil or something, but it won't taste as good. But then, if you've never had taco beans, you wouldn't know the difference between cooking them in lard or olive oil.
My belly's happy and I've got a smile on my face - Grandma Mary may be gone, but I can still enjoy the memories of cooking my favorite foods with her.
What are your favorite comfort foods or food memories?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Grandma's Last Gift
I wasn't sure what to expect from Christmas Eve this year, as it would be the first without Grandma Mary. We had all pretty much predicted that the family would fall apart when she died. And it did. To an extent. Grandma's last gift to us was to bridge the distance between my dad and my uncle. They are closer now than they have ever been. I have to hand it to my dad. I had little to no respect for the man. He'd done nothing to earn any of my respect. He was a narcissistic asshole who made promises he never kept and used people more than he ever helped them.
And then Grandma had her stroke. We knew that my cousins who had been livingoff with her for years would not be able to take care of her. After all, they're the ones who allowed her to stroke for three days before my other cousin and his wife visited and insisted they take Grandma to the hospital. So the option of her going home to them after her stroke, well, wasn't an option.
Dad stepped up to the plate. He moved in and cared for her 24/7. He did an amazing job. She was more active in the months after her stroke than in the years before. They went gambling, they went to bingo, they went to dinner. Dad seriously flourished in his role as a care-giver. For the first time in 25 years he had purpose in life.
Uncle DeVito, my dad's older brother, went to work fixing up Grandma's house to make it wheelchair accessible and safe for her.
Together, the two of them worked side-by-side day in and day out toward one common goal. To take care of the woman we all loved. My heart is so happy to see the new bridge built between Dad and Uncle DeVito. Thank you, Grandma Mary.
Sadly, my aunt didn't participate. She retreated and pouted and pointed fingers, but she didn't help. That's where the family fell apart. We attempted to reach out to her, but she chose to be the victim in the situation and took her sons and their families with her. My heart is a little sad over that, but it wasn't at all unexpected.
It was with some trepidation that I approached Christmas Eve. We'd done Christmas Eve at Grandma's house for my entire life. There was no question that we'd continue celebrating as a family at her house, but I wasn't sure what to expect.
It was AMAZING! With my aunt and "her" family choosing to do their own thing and not join us, the stress level was non-existent. I hadn't realized how much tippy-toeing around we did when my aunt's family was around. We all contributed to a potluck dinner and spent the evening enjoying each other's company (and a margarita or four). I can't say that I missed Grandma because she was there. The love she gave each and every one of us shone that night.
I'm not sure how I managed to miss getting pics of most of my family. Junior, Nonners, Chris, Uncle DeVito - I'm sorry. I'm blaming the margaritas for the omission.
I hope everyone had as great a time as I did. Love you all.
And then Grandma had her stroke. We knew that my cousins who had been living
Dad stepped up to the plate. He moved in and cared for her 24/7. He did an amazing job. She was more active in the months after her stroke than in the years before. They went gambling, they went to bingo, they went to dinner. Dad seriously flourished in his role as a care-giver. For the first time in 25 years he had purpose in life.
Uncle DeVito, my dad's older brother, went to work fixing up Grandma's house to make it wheelchair accessible and safe for her.
Together, the two of them worked side-by-side day in and day out toward one common goal. To take care of the woman we all loved. My heart is so happy to see the new bridge built between Dad and Uncle DeVito. Thank you, Grandma Mary.
Sadly, my aunt didn't participate. She retreated and pouted and pointed fingers, but she didn't help. That's where the family fell apart. We attempted to reach out to her, but she chose to be the victim in the situation and took her sons and their families with her. My heart is a little sad over that, but it wasn't at all unexpected.
It was with some trepidation that I approached Christmas Eve. We'd done Christmas Eve at Grandma's house for my entire life. There was no question that we'd continue celebrating as a family at her house, but I wasn't sure what to expect.
It was AMAZING! With my aunt and "her" family choosing to do their own thing and not join us, the stress level was non-existent. I hadn't realized how much tippy-toeing around we did when my aunt's family was around. We all contributed to a potluck dinner and spent the evening enjoying each other's company (and a margarita or four). I can't say that I missed Grandma because she was there. The love she gave each and every one of us shone that night.
Dad and Uncle DeVito
Digger, RCC, Ashinator, Monster and me
My brother, Junior, and RCC. And I have no idea what they were doing. They were the stone-cold sober ones.
Me and Nebalee (1st margarita)
Asset, Nebalee, Kyzzer, Mr. Nebalee, Auto Bot
With Digger. Yes, I know the picture's tilted. So was I (marg #3-ish)
With Monster and Ashinator. Yes, I know the picture's blurry. So was I (marg #4-ish)
I'm not sure how I managed to miss getting pics of most of my family. Junior, Nonners, Chris, Uncle DeVito - I'm sorry. I'm blaming the margaritas for the omission.
I hope everyone had as great a time as I did. Love you all.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Mary T. Gallegos 6/14/20 - 10/21/10
Grandma Mary laid down for her final sleeping kitty this morning. Dad went into wake her up this morning at 6 am she wanted to sleep some more, so he left her to sleep in. When he went to wake her again at 9:30 this morning, she'd recently joined Grandpa Moe in Heaven.
While I'm heartbroken that she's not here anymore, I know that the last few months, ever since her stroke, have been really hard on her. She never complained - that wasn't her way - but I know she was frustrated with being wheelchair bound and unable to care for her family; others had to care for her for a change.
Death is always hardest on those left behind. The kids took it as expected: Ashinator lost her mind right off the bat; Digger shored up and shed very few tears (he'll lost his mind at the funeral when it's real - kinda like his mommy); and Monster got angry and shut down. Me? I've been busy rounding up the kids from school, driving to Wyoming to pick up Digger, and dealing with family drama.
I'm not sure when I'll finally let down; for now, I'm at peace with her death. Grandma Mary and I were very close, she often told me that I was like a daugher to her, rather than a granddaughter. That's a hell of a compliment from such an amazing woman.
The thing is, I know how hard it was on her to be dependent on someone else. I know how much she hated not being able to go about her daily routine and to have the physical therapist come and torture her every day. And I know how much she missed Grandpa Moe every day.
She had a good day yesterday; Dad and my Uncle took her out to lunch, she spent the evening with her kittens on her lap and howling - literally - with the dog. According to Dad, she and the dog had quite the chorus going and then she'd laugh and laugh. When I talked to her yesterday afternoon she was in good spirits and was a jabbermouth. Only, after her stroke, when she got excited she tripped over her words and you had to glean her meaning simply by her tone. Her excitement told me she was having a great day.
So while I'll bawl my eyes out at her funeral and I'll miss her every day, I'm at peace with her passing. She had a great day yesterday and died in her sleep this morning.
I'm okay with that.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Ode to Grandma Mary
Note: When I decided to recycle some posts while I was out jet-setting, I thought I'd pick some of my favorite posts. This one went up as part of a Mass Blogging Day. Recently, Grandma Mary turned ninety and had a stroke a few days later. She's doing okay; not spectacular, but still not as poorly as some ninety year-olds I know.
Ashinator's been promising me some posts, and we'll resume those after I get back. Until then, I'm 'jacking her spot in my little blog world.
![]()
My Grandma Mary is the most beautiful woman in the world. She always has been and always will be. She’s the oldest of nine children, three of whom died in childhood from pneumonia. Her entire life has been dedicated to raising children: her younger siblings, her cousins, her own children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I don’t think that matriarch adequately defines her role in our family.
The majority of my childhood memories revolve around my Grandma Mary. My biggest goal – really, all of us kids’ biggest goal – was to finally get as tall as Grandma, who towered over us as a whopping four feet six inches tall. Not only was it a milestone for me, my siblings, and our cousins, but it continues to be a milestone for our children, though she’s now four foot four inches tall. She’s a tiny little thing, less than one hundred pounds and getting shorter by the day, but at 89 years old, she still draws people to her with her strength and beauty.
Growing up, the whole family would gather for Sunday family dinners and Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My parents and siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins would all spend Sunday evening eating and watching the Disney family movie. As we got older, the Sunday family nights went by the wayside, but we always spent time with Grandma. When we got to junior high and high school, we took our friends to Grandma’s and she welcomed them with open arms. I can’t count how many “adopted” grandchildren she has; each of us brought two or three into the family, which has carried on with our children and their friends.
I didn’t seriously go to college until I was 22 and married with two children. I got pregnant with my third during my freshman year and got divorced during my sophomore year. I could not have finished college without the unwavering support of my grandma. When the kids were very young, she wouldn’t hear of me putting them in daycare – they belonged with family. She was in her early 70’s then and stubborn as a mule. I didn’t fight her. It would not have done any good. Once the kids got to be pre-school-aged, I managed to convince her that it would be okay for them to go to pre-school. Luckily, they were spaced out enough that we could “wean” her from them. And then my cousins started having children, so she has never been without children to take care of.
She is the glue that holds the family together. We – me, my sibs, and our cousins – have grown up, gotten married and had children of our own. And she’s treated our children as wonderfully as she treated us. There is no doubt in our minds that we are loved. Totally, completely, unconditionally loved. There is nothing that we could ever do to diminish that love. In her eyes, we are all saints. And in our eyes, she is the saint.
She had her first heart attack less than a week before her 50th wedding anniversary. A couple of stents and a week later and she was out on the dance floor with Grandpa looking as beautiful and radiant as ever. We all feared we’d lose her when Grandpa died of a stroke a few years later – after all, they were still madly in love. She mourned his death and moved on, again surrounding herself with children. She needed the great grandkids, just as they needed her. She’s convinced that when she has no one to take care of, she’ll die. She’ll have nothing left to live for if she’s got no one to nurture and love. Sadly, I believe her.
She is getting older, a little more hard of hearing, a little more frail, and I fear that time is running out for us. She’s an awfully healthy 89 year-old; she still lives at home and takes care of my cousin’s young daughters. She’s got a few health issues, but nothing like I’ve seen in other people her age. But I’m a realist, and I’ve worked in medicine a long time, I know that every day we have with her is a gift, a gift that won’t last forever. I dread the reality of her death, not just because I would lose her, but because, selfishly, I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up without ever knowing the unconditional love and affection she so easily dishes out.
![]()
Ashinator's been promising me some posts, and we'll resume those after I get back. Until then, I'm 'jacking her spot in my little blog world.
The majority of my childhood memories revolve around my Grandma Mary. My biggest goal – really, all of us kids’ biggest goal – was to finally get as tall as Grandma, who towered over us as a whopping four feet six inches tall. Not only was it a milestone for me, my siblings, and our cousins, but it continues to be a milestone for our children, though she’s now four foot four inches tall. She’s a tiny little thing, less than one hundred pounds and getting shorter by the day, but at 89 years old, she still draws people to her with her strength and beauty.
Growing up, the whole family would gather for Sunday family dinners and Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My parents and siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins would all spend Sunday evening eating and watching the Disney family movie. As we got older, the Sunday family nights went by the wayside, but we always spent time with Grandma. When we got to junior high and high school, we took our friends to Grandma’s and she welcomed them with open arms. I can’t count how many “adopted” grandchildren she has; each of us brought two or three into the family, which has carried on with our children and their friends.
I didn’t seriously go to college until I was 22 and married with two children. I got pregnant with my third during my freshman year and got divorced during my sophomore year. I could not have finished college without the unwavering support of my grandma. When the kids were very young, she wouldn’t hear of me putting them in daycare – they belonged with family. She was in her early 70’s then and stubborn as a mule. I didn’t fight her. It would not have done any good. Once the kids got to be pre-school-aged, I managed to convince her that it would be okay for them to go to pre-school. Luckily, they were spaced out enough that we could “wean” her from them. And then my cousins started having children, so she has never been without children to take care of.
She is the glue that holds the family together. We – me, my sibs, and our cousins – have grown up, gotten married and had children of our own. And she’s treated our children as wonderfully as she treated us. There is no doubt in our minds that we are loved. Totally, completely, unconditionally loved. There is nothing that we could ever do to diminish that love. In her eyes, we are all saints. And in our eyes, she is the saint.
She had her first heart attack less than a week before her 50th wedding anniversary. A couple of stents and a week later and she was out on the dance floor with Grandpa looking as beautiful and radiant as ever. We all feared we’d lose her when Grandpa died of a stroke a few years later – after all, they were still madly in love. She mourned his death and moved on, again surrounding herself with children. She needed the great grandkids, just as they needed her. She’s convinced that when she has no one to take care of, she’ll die. She’ll have nothing left to live for if she’s got no one to nurture and love. Sadly, I believe her.
She is getting older, a little more hard of hearing, a little more frail, and I fear that time is running out for us. She’s an awfully healthy 89 year-old; she still lives at home and takes care of my cousin’s young daughters. She’s got a few health issues, but nothing like I’ve seen in other people her age. But I’m a realist, and I’ve worked in medicine a long time, I know that every day we have with her is a gift, a gift that won’t last forever. I dread the reality of her death, not just because I would lose her, but because, selfishly, I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up without ever knowing the unconditional love and affection she so easily dishes out.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Out of the Mouths of Babes
And I don't mean babes as in babies, I mean babes as in hot mommas.
My Grandma Mary, at 90, is still one of the most beautiful women I know - she's the babe I'm talking about.
Grandma had a stroke the other night. We were lucky, she'd already been admitted to the hospital for what were probably TIAs (transient ischemic attacks - "mini strokes"). So she was in good hands when she stroked.
I could see she was getting frustrated trying to gather her thoughts, so I just let her take a minute to gather her thoughts.
"You know...sleeping...sleeps kitty...sleeping kitties."
And then it dawned on me - catnaps!
But I kinda like sleeping kitties, I may keep that phrase.
Grandma had a stroke the other night. We were lucky, she'd already been admitted to the hospital for what were probably TIAs (transient ischemic attacks - "mini strokes"). So she was in good hands when she stroked.
Anyway, the damage to her brain is minimal and the doc expects a full recovery. I sat with her at the hospital all day yesterday and she was complaining about how little sleep she was getting. She said, "they keep waking me up so all I can get are...little sleeps...you know..."
I could see she was getting frustrated trying to gather her thoughts, so I just let her take a minute to gather her thoughts.
"You know...sleeping...sleeps kitty...sleeping kitties."
And then it dawned on me - catnaps!
But I kinda like sleeping kitties, I may keep that phrase.
Photo cred: http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2119/2229784555_aa2dd3a585_o.jpg
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Christmas Chaos 2009
Four Christmases in twenty-four hours. Only ours went a whole lot smoother than the movie Four Christmases, Thank God.
Christmas #1: Christmas Eve
Our Christmas Chaos started Christmas Eve at Grandma Mary's house, which was, as usual, standing room only. The key is to arrive early enough for butt space. Christmas Eve is where having kids really pays off, because the kids can step and fetch while you protect your butt space. If you arrive too late, you're screwed, you've got to find some place to stand and that just sucks.
Of course, the Chaos was controlled by my friend Amanda, who provided us with a good sized bottle of Apple Pie Hooch. No shot glasses were to be found, but, hell, we're all family, we'll just share the bottle...
Sure beats the time, a few years ago, when we had a bottle of wine, but no corkscrew. Being the inventive family we are, we drilled (yes, power tools were involved) a screw down into the synthetic cork and used the claw end of a hammer to pry the cork out. We don't need no stinkin' corkscrew!
Christmas #2: At Home
Christmas #4: To the Mountains We Go
After RCC's family's house, we packed up and headed to my parents' place in Allenspark. My brother, Deejo and his family, had arrived from Arizona too late to enjoy the fun at Grandma Mary's, but were waiting for us at Mom's. Well, sort of waiting for us. They'd done the present thing before breakfast brunch, which we missed while we were at RCC's parents' place. I was kind of sad and pissy that we missed the major opening party, but felt better when I found out that not everybody had opened their gifts. I was anxious to see their faces when they opened their gifts from us. RCC and I had bound our NaNo projects on Blurb for Christmas presents and I wanted to see their faces when they opened them. RCC's parents loved them and I was hoping to get to see my Mom's face when she opened her present. I got lucky, she'd been too busy preparing brunch to open her presents, so I still got to be there when she opened them.
After the non-success of the snowboard, Monster, who cannot sit still, managed to talk his uncle into pulling him behind the car on a snow saucer. Yes, I know, it's kind of illegal. But it's also a whole ton of fun. And we survived when we were kids. He had a couple of colossal wipe-outs, but managed to survive with all of his fingers and toes and no broken bones. I gotta tell you, this kid can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.
We survived all of our Christmases and slept 'til 11:00 this morning. Wow. All that running around must have really taken it out of us, but I'm glad to have this running around to do. I remember some pretty sucky Christmases, so I'll take the exhaustion of running all over God's green earth over some of our other Christmases.
Christmas #1: Christmas Eve
Our Christmas Chaos started Christmas Eve at Grandma Mary's house, which was, as usual, standing room only. The key is to arrive early enough for butt space. Christmas Eve is where having kids really pays off, because the kids can step and fetch while you protect your butt space. If you arrive too late, you're screwed, you've got to find some place to stand and that just sucks.
Of course, the Chaos was controlled by my friend Amanda, who provided us with a good sized bottle of Apple Pie Hooch. No shot glasses were to be found, but, hell, we're all family, we'll just share the bottle...
Sure beats the time, a few years ago, when we had a bottle of wine, but no corkscrew. Being the inventive family we are, we drilled (yes, power tools were involved) a screw down into the synthetic cork and used the claw end of a hammer to pry the cork out. We don't need no stinkin' corkscrew!
Christmas #2: At Home
We woke up bright an early on Christmas Morning. Well, actually RCC and I were woken up early by Digger, who is well known for his sleeping in ability. Color me surprised that he woke us up at ten 'til seven, ten whole minutes before our alarm was set to go off. He was like, well, a kid on Christmas Morning. In no time at all, he'd roused the entire house and we tore into presents. We didn't get a tree up this year, which I didn't think would bother me because we went so many years without a tree, but after our amazing tree last year, I'm kinda sad we didn't do one this year.
Christmas #3: Off to the In-Laws
After our early morning, present fest, we loaded up both cars with the kids and the dog and off we went to RCC's parents for Christmas Morning with them. Unlike last year, when his little brother was still asleep when we got there (what kid can sleep in on Christmas Morning?), Dallan was up and frothing at the bit to get started. Christmas at RCC's family's house is much more sedate than the free-for-all that occurs at my grandma's on Christmas Eve. But, Lord, my family is so enormous that if we did the one person open one present thing there we'd be opening presents until New Year's.
Christmas #4: To the Mountains We Go
After RCC's family's house, we packed up and headed to my parents' place in Allenspark. My brother, Deejo and his family, had arrived from Arizona too late to enjoy the fun at Grandma Mary's, but were waiting for us at Mom's. Well, sort of waiting for us. They'd done the present thing before breakfast brunch, which we missed while we were at RCC's parents' place. I was kind of sad and pissy that we missed the major opening party, but felt better when I found out that not everybody had opened their gifts. I was anxious to see their faces when they opened their gifts from us. RCC and I had bound our NaNo projects on Blurb for Christmas presents and I wanted to see their faces when they opened them. RCC's parents loved them and I was hoping to get to see my Mom's face when she opened her present. I got lucky, she'd been too busy preparing brunch to open her presents, so I still got to be there when she opened them.
It made me happy to see her so excited about the books, even if they're nowhere near being complete. Monster and Deejo's kids tried snowboarding out back, but that didn't go so well. The snow was too deep and they had to shovel out a path for the snowboard.
After the non-success of the snowboard, Monster, who cannot sit still, managed to talk his uncle into pulling him behind the car on a snow saucer. Yes, I know, it's kind of illegal. But it's also a whole ton of fun. And we survived when we were kids. He had a couple of colossal wipe-outs, but managed to survive with all of his fingers and toes and no broken bones. I gotta tell you, this kid can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.
We survived all of our Christmases and slept 'til 11:00 this morning. Wow. All that running around must have really taken it out of us, but I'm glad to have this running around to do. I remember some pretty sucky Christmases, so I'll take the exhaustion of running all over God's green earth over some of our other Christmases.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Mass Blogging Day - Family Relationships
Today I'm participating in a mass blogging! WOW! Women On Writing has gathered a group of blogging buddies to write about family relationships. Why family relationships? We're celebrating the release of Therese Walsh's debut novel today. The Last Will of Moira Leahy, (Random House, October 13, 2009) is about a mysterious journey that helps a woman learn more about herself and her twin, whom she lost when they were teenagers. Visit The Muffin to read what Therese has to say about family relationships and view the list of all my blogging buddies. And make sure you visit Therese's website to find out more about the author.
![]()
My Grandma Mary is the most beautiful woman in the world. She always has been and always will be. She’s the oldest of nine children, three of whom died in childhood from pneumonia. Her entire life has been dedicated to raising children: her younger siblings, her cousins, her own children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I don’t think that matriarch adequately defines her role in our family.
The majority of my childhood memories revolve around my Grandma Mary. My biggest goal – really, all of us kids’ biggest goal – was to finally get as tall as Grandma, who towered over us as a whopping four feet six inches tall. Not only was it a milestone for me, my siblings, and our cousins, but it continues to be a milestone for our children, though she’s now four foot four inches tall. She’s a tiny little thing, less than one hundred pounds and getting shorter by the day, but at 89 years old, she still draws people to her with her strength and beauty.
Growing up, the whole family would gather for Sunday family dinners and Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My parents and siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins would all spend Sunday evening eating and watching the Disney family movie. As we got older, the Sunday family nights went by the wayside, but we always spent time with Grandma. When we got to junior high and high school, we took our friends to Grandma’s and she welcomed them with open arms. I can’t count how many “adopted” grandchildren she has; each of us brought two or three into the family, which has carried on with our children and their friends.
I didn’t seriously go to college until I was 22 and married with two children. I got pregnant with my third during my freshman year and got divorced during my sophomore year. I could not have finished college without the unwavering support of my grandma. When the kids were very young, she wouldn’t hear of me putting them in daycare – they belonged with family. She was in her early 70’s then and stubborn as a mule. I didn’t fight her. It would not have done any good. Once the kids got to be pre-school-aged, I managed to convince her that it would be okay for them to go to pre-school. Luckily, they were spaced out enough that we could “wean” her from them. And then my cousins started having children, so she has never been without children to take care of.
She is the glue that holds the family together. We – me, my sibs, and our cousins – have grown up, gotten married and had children of our own. And she’s treated our children as wonderfully as she treated us. There is no doubt in our minds that we are loved. Totally, completely, unconditionally loved. There is nothing that we could ever do to diminish that love. In her eyes, we are all saints. And in our eyes, she is the saint.
She had her first heart attack less than a week before her 50th wedding anniversary. A couple of stents and a week later and she was out on the dance floor with Grandpa looking as beautiful and radiant as ever. We all feared we’d lose her when Grandpa died of a stroke a few years later – after all, they were still madly in love. She mourned his death and moved on, again surrounding herself with children. She needed the great grandkids, just as they needed her. She’s convinced that when she has no one to take care of, she’ll die. She’ll have nothing left to live for if she’s got no one to nurture and love. Sadly, I believe her.
She is getting older, a little more hard of hearing, a little more frail, and I fear that time is running out for us. She’s an awfully healthy 89 year-old; she still lives at home and takes care of my cousin’s young daughters. She’s got a few health issues, but nothing like I’ve seen in other people her age. But I’m a realist, and I’ve worked in medicine a long time, I know that every day we have with her is a gift, a gift that won’t last forever. I dread the reality of her death, not just because I would lose her, but because, selfishly, I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up without ever knowing the unconditional love and affection she so easily dishes out.
![]()
The majority of my childhood memories revolve around my Grandma Mary. My biggest goal – really, all of us kids’ biggest goal – was to finally get as tall as Grandma, who towered over us as a whopping four feet six inches tall. Not only was it a milestone for me, my siblings, and our cousins, but it continues to be a milestone for our children, though she’s now four foot four inches tall. She’s a tiny little thing, less than one hundred pounds and getting shorter by the day, but at 89 years old, she still draws people to her with her strength and beauty.
Growing up, the whole family would gather for Sunday family dinners and Grandma and Grandpa’s house. My parents and siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins would all spend Sunday evening eating and watching the Disney family movie. As we got older, the Sunday family nights went by the wayside, but we always spent time with Grandma. When we got to junior high and high school, we took our friends to Grandma’s and she welcomed them with open arms. I can’t count how many “adopted” grandchildren she has; each of us brought two or three into the family, which has carried on with our children and their friends.
I didn’t seriously go to college until I was 22 and married with two children. I got pregnant with my third during my freshman year and got divorced during my sophomore year. I could not have finished college without the unwavering support of my grandma. When the kids were very young, she wouldn’t hear of me putting them in daycare – they belonged with family. She was in her early 70’s then and stubborn as a mule. I didn’t fight her. It would not have done any good. Once the kids got to be pre-school-aged, I managed to convince her that it would be okay for them to go to pre-school. Luckily, they were spaced out enough that we could “wean” her from them. And then my cousins started having children, so she has never been without children to take care of.
She is the glue that holds the family together. We – me, my sibs, and our cousins – have grown up, gotten married and had children of our own. And she’s treated our children as wonderfully as she treated us. There is no doubt in our minds that we are loved. Totally, completely, unconditionally loved. There is nothing that we could ever do to diminish that love. In her eyes, we are all saints. And in our eyes, she is the saint.
She had her first heart attack less than a week before her 50th wedding anniversary. A couple of stents and a week later and she was out on the dance floor with Grandpa looking as beautiful and radiant as ever. We all feared we’d lose her when Grandpa died of a stroke a few years later – after all, they were still madly in love. She mourned his death and moved on, again surrounding herself with children. She needed the great grandkids, just as they needed her. She’s convinced that when she has no one to take care of, she’ll die. She’ll have nothing left to live for if she’s got no one to nurture and love. Sadly, I believe her.
She is getting older, a little more hard of hearing, a little more frail, and I fear that time is running out for us. She’s an awfully healthy 89 year-old; she still lives at home and takes care of my cousin’s young daughters. She’s got a few health issues, but nothing like I’ve seen in other people her age. But I’m a realist, and I’ve worked in medicine a long time, I know that every day we have with her is a gift, a gift that won’t last forever. I dread the reality of her death, not just because I would lose her, but because, selfishly, I don’t want my grandchildren to grow up without ever knowing the unconditional love and affection she so easily dishes out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)