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Archive for November, 2007

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Drive safely if you’re on the go and be thankful.  I am!

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M is not what I would consider behind on verbal skills.  However, she really doesn’t have the huge understandable vocabulary that a lot of 2 1/2 year olds have.  But here’s some recent additions:

“Hold me”.  “hide me, Mommy”  (both phrases as plain as day… emphasis on the me in each).  Finished (which I just figured out this evening because it comes out like fish).  Baby gogs (we have some dwarf frogs in our fish tank).  Mouse House (we just got the Disney channel added to our line-up).  HUSH! sounds like “hersh” and Pooh Bear and gigger.  eas and nose.  peace for please.  orange pop, juce and hot tea. Baf (for bath).  GO! and car are pretty plain too.  Some 2 or 3 word phrases that are understandable.

She brought a Curious George book to me earlier to read with her.  Once she started flipping past pages I stopped reading so much.  But I did start asking her where things were in the pictures… different animals and stuff and then we moved on to “where’s the red balloon… blue balloon… yellow balloon.  All three she knew, which surprised me a bit cause we haven’t gone over them a bunch, just me pointing them  out to her in different blocks and moving on.  She did miss the pink one, though.  And she knows when there is two of something.

Potty training continues to go well, though she has had some accidents, maybe a handful.  And on the long accomplished weaning front, she now refers to my breasts as “Mommy’s nurse”.

 I am convinced she could scale at least a two story building if you gave her a chance.  She dances and jiggles about, runs and bounces/throws balls like a pro.  Well, maybe a pretty good amateur. 

She’s just the funnest little preschooler in the world.  I love 2 year olds! 

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Tookshire reminded me that I haven’t been exactly posting daily for this encyclopedia of me thing in her comment to the last post.  Making me think that today is “g”, which is perfect cause I’ve been wanting to introduce you all to my Granny for a long time.  By the way, there’s no telling how long this post will be, cause Granny’s 89 years old and I’ve known her all my laugh life.  (That “laugh” was an unintentional misprint, but I left it cause Granny has made me smile a lot since becoming older.)

My earliest memories of Granny have more to do with traveling than her, really.  As a preschooler we lived a 2 1/2 hour trip away from Granny.  A trip that I remember taking often.  I don’t really remember asking to go see Granny or anything like that.  She was just the reason we always made the trip.  Thoughts of a giant bourbon bottle, “The One Eyed, One Horned Flying Purple People Eater” and “The Streak” are conjured up in those car trip memories.  But that’s another post.  Christmas and Easter were the big trips to see Granny.  At the time she was probably in her 50’s, but I thought she was old.  She would smack my fingers with the flat side of her knife whenever I tried to get at whatever food she was fixing.  I always thought my fingers were in jeopardy then, but I doubt it.  I’ve done the same thing too much as a mother of my own tidbit snatchers.  Once the mission failed or succeeded (which was very rarely), it was always the topic of conversation for whomever was standing by for at least a few minutes.  Granny always bought each one of her children and grandchildren (and later on, greats and in-laws and anybody else that showed up at her house Christmas Eve) a small gift.  So when I was little, the food and gifts probably meant more than Granny.  Now they all add up to the memories, which are becoming more and more important.

Then there was Easter.  I do remember waking up at her house to an absolutly stuffed basket, getting all dressed up in itchy finery (complete with hat and purse, as I recall) and going to the church Granny raised her children in and which would eventually be the church I was raised in.  The it was back to her house for egg hunting with all the cousins and another huge meal (no fingers were harmed in the making of the meal).  For some reason, a plastic purple Easter bunny that I gave her stands out in my mind.  It was hollow and I know I gave it to her and she placed it in a position of honor in her china cabinet… I just can’t remember why.  Although it makes me cry to remember it.

We moved to the town that she was in when I was 7-ish and about to enter second grade.  We spent a little bit of time living with her while my parents looked for a house, and I think I remember sleeping on her sofa bed and loosing a beloved Raggedy Ann doll in it’s crevices for a while.  After we moved out I remember spending a couple of nights with her, but the opposite became more the norm.  Granny would always come spend Saturday nights with us so that we could take her to church with us the next day.  Mom would pin curl her hair (and mine sometimes) and they would fix popcorn and pizza for dinner… every.. Saturday.. night.  Granny always cut up the green peppers and some of the other toppings for the pizza (no fingers were harmed in the making of the pizzas).  At times it was airpopped popcorn, but it was always Granny’s show (HeeHaw) followed by others that we all liked… Love Boat, Fantasy Island… you remember the theme songs, right?  hehe  I seem to remember Granny liking Tattoo and repeating “de plane… de plane” quite a bit.  And so it was Granny’s church that I grew up in.

Granny was the “cleaner” for the church too, so there was a lot of pride in that little building.  MY Granny took care of it.  As an adult, I imagine nobody else saw me as any different than any of the other children of the church, but I believed I had an inside track, if not any distinct special place.  I may have even been looked down on by some.  Who knows.  It certainly never occured to me to be anything but scared of my Granny while she was in the church… cause she would be cleaning up any messes I made and didn’t take care of.    Not that she was mean or anything.  She just took pride in what she did.  Sitting next to her, I remember her sharing gum with me (Wrigley’s fruit kind in the yellow package) and tisking at the misbehaving children who had scratched their names or whatever in the wood of the pews.  “Fools names and fools faces always appear in public places.”  Heard that little gem of wisdom when she went camping with us, too.

She would go camping with us all the time.  We played rummy (her rules), drank coffee while dipping our cookies in and got our fishing hooks stuck in a lot of trees.  It scared her when we played in the fire ( never peed in the bed, though, because of it) and rode our bikes around the circles.  She wasn’t the first one we wanted around when we went swimming, either.  Went on a lot of hikes, some of which she came along on.  I remember she had a walking stick and picked up tons of otherwise ordinary rocks, but she found something interesting in them.  They’re probably making up a middle layer in her backyard flowerbed now.  Even while camping, squirrels were her major enemy.  Don’t ask me why.

Granny was the keeper of a picnic basket that she always kept filled and ready for camping and family reunions.  It was probably one of the few truly useful “different” Christmas presents she received from a child over the years.  Don’t know if she still has it, but I remember the reunions.  As a teenager we went to a state park about 1/2 an hour’s drive away for this reunion because one of my uncles kept a boat there.  We would load everything up and take her down there early in the morning so that we could make sure we had the best shelter available.  Later, when I was in college I remember driving her there to make reservations for the September reunion in January.  Had to make sure we got the best shelter, after all.  In recent years the reunion was merged with her birthday, which is July 7.

Granny is a twin (though her brother died shortly after birth).  In 1918, I don’t know how even that many multiples survived.  But her favorite story was that she was kept in a dresser drawer as an infant.  She added how she was kept warm, but I don’t remember that part.  Granny had two other sets of twin siblings, but they all died before she was born.  Can you imagine that?  Three sets of twins in a family!  When my own twins were born it was a kick to see her with them and hear all the old stories again.

Granny has lived with alzheimers now for about 7 years or so and now believes she is 12.  After having suffered through the loss of 3 of her sons, I think she’s just tired out.  I love my Grandmother deeply.  She played a huge part in my childhood.  I can’t seem to think of too many times growing up when she doesn’t enter the picture some way.  She’s the only one my Dear Heart will allow to call him Tommy.  I already miss her more than I know how to say.  But I’ll hold on to everything of her that makes me, “me”.

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Do you ever feel like that mouse who received a cookie… you need a cup of milk and then this and then that. 

So I’ve been living with a vacuum that didn’t quite work very well.  I resorted to sweeping my living room rug with my broom.  Yeah… I did… for about a year.  Why?  You ask?  Because I’m just a bit lazy when it comes to getting things repaired and in proper working order (especially things that I use when I clean the house).  Plus, I didn’t know just how much this repair was going to cost.

But I did finally take it in for the repair (it needed a new beater bar and fan belt).  And today my dear P says “why are you vacuuming so much?”  The question came on the heals of “just a quick little run through on the living room rug”.  Which was quickly followed by rearranging the living room furniture ( just because I haven’t done that in a while) and re-vacuuming the spots the furniture was hiding.  Pulling out the heavy, almost never cleaned behind tv stand to vacuum away the dust bunnies monsters and sweeping (with old faithful) the hardwood floor.  I still need to dust (achoo!), launder the curtains, clean the fan blades (yuck!) and clean the upholstery on my ottoman (double yuck, cause M uses it as her table to eat everything on.  No, no feet are ever on it.)

So, for all my friends who come to hang out with me ever so often at my house, you have been warned… my space looks a bit different and the dust motes are flying!  🙂  Because, even though I’ve done all of this, I never said I was any good at it. 😉

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