Grandma

There was once a woman who lived on this earth, who had a heart of gold. She was filled with compassion and love. She loved her husband, her children, her grandchildren and in the very end, her great grandchildren.  She was truly a woman of God. And she is my grandmother. It surprises me, and makes me smile to know that 11 years after her passing, she would be remain the most powerful and influential person in my catholic life.  My only regret is that I wish I could tell her that, and apologize to her that her last years of life were when I was a snotty teenager.

My grandmother was the example of the woman I want to be, the Proverbs 31 Woman.  She woke early every day to start preparing for her family, be it working herself or taking care of children/grandchildren.  She always made sure my Ba (grandfather) was well taken care of, even at the end of his life when Alzheimer's took over-as much as it broke her heart when he couldn't remember who she was, she always took care of him.

My favorite memory of her is laying in her bed, while she would sing "you are my sunshine" and then we would pretend her bed was a magic carpet-and we could go anywhere. "Take me to Paris" she would say, and off we would go, soaring high above the city, looking down at the crowds. "Take me to Rome" and off we would go again, "Bombay, London, South Africa, Washington DC"-until my sleepy eyes couldn't stay open any longer, we would say our Hail Mary and I would go off to bed.

I wish she were here now, just to talk to. Just to sit on her bed, or sit in the living room and just chat. To tell her all the things I now know, and how I wish I listened to her then.  She would love Zoe, my little bossy bratty daughter, and probably say she has a strong spirit.  She would love to listen to Tony's stories and would probably read all of what he writes. She would love to watch JJ play and just be a kid...he would be the kid that out climbed the record climb in the apple tree at there house ( a record proudly held by me-and sadly that tree is long gone.)
She would be happy to know that I found a good Irish Catholic boy that I love, and his three children that I adore.  She would love them as though they were biologically mine.  When I think about how much I love them, I can hear my grandma tell me a poem she found when she adopted my mom and uncle;
Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn't grow under my heart,
But in it.

I would tell her over tea how stressed out I get. How much my job feels like it sucks out my soul at times.  How I wonder how food will end up on the table, or how the bills will be paid.  I will tell her my fears of loneliness, how the quiet can haunt me, yet then there are days when I seek solitude and silence. She would remind me, because she does still in my dreams, that I will be OK. That the Lord has his eye one me, and that one day-I will look back on everything and it will all make sense. She always knew what to say, to comfort me, no matter what happens.

I love you Grandma...all the way to the moon and back.

Five Minute Friday- "She"

It is Friday, and one of the blogs I follow, Lisa-Jo Baker, aka the gypsy mama, has the weekly writing prompt-Five Minute Friday.  In a nutshell, it is one word given, and then we (her loyal followers) write for five minutes, uninterrupted, no drafts, no editing (although I sometimes do-just write.

This week's writing prompt:
                                             She

  She is about three and a half feet tall, twenty five pounds, pig tails and dirty gym shoes.  She is the answer to the prayer that I didn't know I was praying.  She is beautiful, she is playful, and she exhausts me.

She is stubborn. I blame it on her father.  She will sit on her bed, arms crossed and pout faced forever and a day before she will just say she is sorry to me for being rude, or being mean to her brother.  She will go back into time out just to get out of doing what is asked of her.
And I wonder what monster I have created and sent into the world.
Long before she was born, my ex-husband, her father, was convinced she was going to be what he called "the trifecta". A deadly mix of her mother (me), her aunt (his sister) and her Mia (my mom); basically the three women on the planet that he was terrified of.

Then, on a cool January day, five years ago, the "bossy cow" was born. Of course we didn't call her that right away. That nickname, which was said in Polish (and I cannot spell it for the life of me) was the nickname of her aunt.  Now, she passed it along to her godchild-before she was a month old.
My daughter has always been bossy. She was a fuss bucket when she was born.  She seemed to calm down for a few months, but as

soon as she learned the art of manipulation on her older brothers, it was game on.
In a case like this, her great-grandmothers would say "Pray to Saint Ann and the Virgin Mary".  I do pray, every night...please stop this little cute terror.

She is difficult, and I hope she stays that way when it comes to dating boys. I hope she is stubborn and picky.  I hope she holds her head high and her values higher.  I pray that she knows her value as a woman of God, and holds on to her virtue for the man HE has intended for her, and makes her his wife.
She is energetic. Maybe, she will learn to channel her energy to good. Maybe her stubbornness and bossiness will be used to change the world. She started Girl Scouts, so maybe this can be used for some serious cookie sales.  Put this kid up against anything, she will overcome it...except giving in, to anybody.  .

                                                   She is my daughter and I love her.