We have these kid cups. They are from McDonald's when Lego Movie was in theaters. So character cups. One of them is Bad Cop. It's G's favorite cup. The past couple of days when he uses the cup ... "Mom, thank you so much for always washing this cup! It's my favorite! Thank you!" And he's super appreciative. I'm keeping the fact that we have two, possibly three, of that particular cup a secret.
...
We were at Hobby Lobby buying rocket cartridges. This is the only aisle of Hobby Lobby they like; the science project, lets-blow-things-up aisle. They also have the diorama animals and trees and stuff in this aisle. I was looking at cartridges and I was distracted for maybe ten seconds. Next thing I knew they had the horses lined up agains the animals, and an owl swooped down and captured an alligator. Because they have owls, and no peregrine falcons.
...
The Mother's Day card arrived at the funeral home. About twenty minutes after I did. There's a message there but I just can't figure out what it is.
I started making cards because of her. Those picture cards because she always liked seeing pictures of what we were doing. She was my pen pal for years. Wrote to me in college. She'd see something in the paper about cleaning products or a funny comic or women in the work place and she'd cut it out and mail it to me with a short note, which always included the weather of Wichita. She valued education. Because of her history. She really, really, really knew that education was important.
She met both boys. Grady she knew. Or, when I brought Grady to her, she still knew me. She always loved kids and children. And every time we came to visit her she lit up around the boys; she enjoyed talking to G. Holding D.
But in the past few year she had no idea who we were. Who's boys are these? She asked, repeatedly.
But a little part of me is chipped that there will never be a picture of her with Julia. She would have liked her. She would have been pleased that I had a daughter. For all her feminism and I-can-do-anything attitude, she had some dated views. She had been known to say, "You need to have a daughter to take care of you," and I believe she did say that to me, after I had Grady.
Which is just silly because no one will ever take better care of my then my boys.
Her funeral wasn't sad. It was transitional and necessary and time. I lost my grandmother years ago. The letters stopped two or three years ago. The phone calls too because she just got confused. And I didn't want to upset her. I lost her years ago. I will miss her always.
...
G's graduation from preschool is tomorrow. He is so excited about summer and science camps and then kindergarten.
I am so nervous. A bundle of nerves. My boy in a classroom with 22 other kids. None of whom I know. None of their backgrounds I can control. How many of those kids have older siblings? How many of those kids are allowed to watch channels other than Disney Jr and PBS? How can I possibly shield him from all the hurt that is out in the world?
And of course I can't. I wish I could even say I was preparing him. I don't know that I am. I hope. I mostly pray. Please keep him safe and happy and keep his heart whole. For as long as possible. And please let his love of learning endure some of the trials bad teachers and bad situations can throw at it.
I hope. I hope. I hope.
...
We were at Hobby Lobby buying rocket cartridges. This is the only aisle of Hobby Lobby they like; the science project, lets-blow-things-up aisle. They also have the diorama animals and trees and stuff in this aisle. I was looking at cartridges and I was distracted for maybe ten seconds. Next thing I knew they had the horses lined up agains the animals, and an owl swooped down and captured an alligator. Because they have owls, and no peregrine falcons.
...
The Mother's Day card arrived at the funeral home. About twenty minutes after I did. There's a message there but I just can't figure out what it is.
I started making cards because of her. Those picture cards because she always liked seeing pictures of what we were doing. She was my pen pal for years. Wrote to me in college. She'd see something in the paper about cleaning products or a funny comic or women in the work place and she'd cut it out and mail it to me with a short note, which always included the weather of Wichita. She valued education. Because of her history. She really, really, really knew that education was important.
She met both boys. Grady she knew. Or, when I brought Grady to her, she still knew me. She always loved kids and children. And every time we came to visit her she lit up around the boys; she enjoyed talking to G. Holding D.
But in the past few year she had no idea who we were. Who's boys are these? She asked, repeatedly.
But a little part of me is chipped that there will never be a picture of her with Julia. She would have liked her. She would have been pleased that I had a daughter. For all her feminism and I-can-do-anything attitude, she had some dated views. She had been known to say, "You need to have a daughter to take care of you," and I believe she did say that to me, after I had Grady.
Which is just silly because no one will ever take better care of my then my boys.
Her funeral wasn't sad. It was transitional and necessary and time. I lost my grandmother years ago. The letters stopped two or three years ago. The phone calls too because she just got confused. And I didn't want to upset her. I lost her years ago. I will miss her always.
...
G's graduation from preschool is tomorrow. He is so excited about summer and science camps and then kindergarten.
I am so nervous. A bundle of nerves. My boy in a classroom with 22 other kids. None of whom I know. None of their backgrounds I can control. How many of those kids have older siblings? How many of those kids are allowed to watch channels other than Disney Jr and PBS? How can I possibly shield him from all the hurt that is out in the world?
And of course I can't. I wish I could even say I was preparing him. I don't know that I am. I hope. I mostly pray. Please keep him safe and happy and keep his heart whole. For as long as possible. And please let his love of learning endure some of the trials bad teachers and bad situations can throw at it.
I hope. I hope. I hope.
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