Connectedness

Connectedness? Is that even a word? Oh, well, if it’s not, you know what I am getting at. Feeling connected has become really important to me in the last few weeks. And I am talking about connected in the physical sense. Really being with my friends, not just on skype or twitter, but being with them. I’m longing for them. Emily and I talk every day, but there’s been times these past couple of weeks or so when I’ve just wanted to drive out to her house and show up and invite myself in and sit as close to her on the couch as she’ll let me! I want to be with her. And her sister. And my BFF Luanne, and pretty much all the other wonderful women I consider good friends.

I’ve had playdates every day this week so far, and I have a friend who works full-time coming over for lunch today on her lunch break and I can’t wait. I just want to love my friends! I’ve gone through definite periods in my life where getting out and about, or cleaning the house to have guests was too much hassle. But now, it’s what I WANT to do. It is weird and compelling. But I am going with it for now.

So, you wanna come over? Let’s plan on it!

Post to Twitter

And so it begins.

Kate’s been in kindergarten all of, I don’t know, three weeks, and already she’s met them.

The mean girls.

Before school today, my grandma put pigtails in Kate’s hair and tied ribbons around them. I didn’t see her, as I was already at work, but I’m sure she looked freaking adorable.

However, apparently some of the other girls didn’t think a random Monday called for ribbons, and made fun of Kate for wearing them when it was not picture day (as though she should have known that rule that they invented THREE SECONDS BEFORE).

I know – I really do – that this is extremely minor. I know that her feelings were hurt and she’ll get over it and then her feelings will get hurt all over again. And again, and again. I also know that there will be times when she’ll hurt the feelings of another little girl. That’s how life is. I get it.

But seriously? They’re five. They’re five and their already picking on each other for something as benign as a hair bow.

Which begs the question, what else – who else – are they making fun of? And how do I make sure it’s not Kate on either side of that equation?

Andy and I did our best to make this a teachable moment and talk to her about what being a friend means and blah blah blah… but none of it erases the hurt she felt today and that makes me so sad.

What I am dying to know, and what I haven’t asked, is this – will she wear the ribbons again tomorrow?

I really, really hope she will.

******
Update: She wanted a ribbon this morning. That makes me SO PROUD.

Post to Twitter

A Remarkable Woman

DSC00762

Yesterday was Grandparents Day. Emily and I saw Maria tweeting about how she was writing about her grandparents, and we thought this was the perfect time to introduce you to our grandma.

There is a lot we could say about our grandma. Like, how when Em’s dad was helping her clean out her house recently (where she’s lived since 1969), he found over 50 plastic rings you get off the top of a milk jug, that she was keeping around, you know, just in case. Or that she watches waaaaay too much cable news, or has been convinced for as long as we can remember, that she is going to win the Publisher’s Clearinghouse (seriously? Stop getting her hopes up, you jerks!)

But while those things are evidence of her quirkiness, they are not really indicative of who our grandma is.

She is quiet, she is very shy. Recently when my mom and I were talking about how my Sophie doesn’t really like big groups or parties, Grandma laughed, and said, “Well she gets that from me!”

My grandmother is certainly old-fashioned and conservative, and yet she is the most independent woman I know. She married at twenty, and had two kids in 11 months (that gives me heart palpitations!). She moved from her home in Kentucky to Ohio with her husband and two toddlers so he could take a job at Frigidaire and give their kids a better life than they had. She kept house for twenty-four years, and then, our grandpa died suddenly. He had a heart attack at age forty-four. Her two kids were grown, and she was alone, about to become a grandmother, supposed to be enjoying an empty nest. Who could have imagined?

Fortunately, Grandma had gotten her driver’s license a couple of months before Grandpa died. Up until that time, he’d done their grocery shopping every Friday after work, because she didn’t drive.

When speaking of Emily’s parents wedding, which took place just three weeks later, my grandma told my mom, “I never wanted to break down so bad in my life.”

But she didn’t. She got a job at Elder-Beerman, a local department store, and worked there for the next twenty years until she retired. I think she retired because she was 65 and that’s what people DO when they are 65. She could have worked longer, it seemed. But she devoted time to being a grandma. She was the best hide-n-seek player EVER, and really, still is. I have never seen her run out of patience with a child. She mowed her lawn, cleaned her own gutters (and has been scolded for doing the latter as recently as this spring!), and every Sunday, cooked an amazing lunch for her entire extended family. Emily, her sister, Anna, and I owe our closeness I think, in large part to Grandma and her Sunday dinners. To say the majority of our childhood bonding happened there over biscuits, meatloaf, hide-n-seek, and rummy games would not be an exaggeration.

Now our grandma, though thinner and a little more white-haired, still opens her house to us every Sunday, though we don’t make it nearly as often. But we do see her as much as we can, because, well, she is the best cook in the entire world, and because our children adore her. They love her never-ending supply of desserts, coddling, and energy for hide-n-seek.

And we love watching them love her.

Post to Twitter