Escape to The Box Store...

I am trying not to write about the article I read that describes the current "dystopian" situation of our nation as falling somewhere between Orwell's 1984 and Homer's land of the lotus-eaters.  The following is the result of that effort to escape current events ....

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So – recently when my grands had a day off from school, their mom invited me to tag along with them while making a trip to a box store about 30 miles from where we live … always a fun adventure that I love to share with them. We try to do it at least two times a year.  I think of it as restocking the larder (one of my grandmother’s words that I have always found amusing for some dumb reason). 

We have shared such outings for many years now. There was a time when my daughter and I each had a child in our own cart. We would tuck the kids into the deep part of the carts and move them around among the items as we shopped – eventually they would be sitting (perched) on top of large boxes of stuff. It was at times to the point that they were about to tip out  – hanging on for dear life. They thought that to be wonderful fun and had a game of some sort involving "package cannons". I never quite understood the rules.  If antsy, they would run around and were usually quite good about staying within sight.  We never really lost either one of them… well… not for very long anyway. Now that my grandson in way taller than I am and my granddaughter is just a bit shorter – those days are gone. No more perching.  No more package cannon. Now – they help lift heavy stuff and select treats for the pantry.  It’s all good.  They also help unload when we get home which is huge.  Plus – they never get lost in the store anymore either – which makes these trips less stressful. They have become expert tasters of the free samples that are sometimes offered from place to place as one moves throughout the warehouse. It’s fun.

I just have to share this one more thing while I have the picture in my mind .... We have been dragging those kids with us for their entire lives.  Good sports both. When my grandson was really little and before he had a sister, I remember packing him into his car seat and then loading perennials into the back seat around him and into the cargo area behind – totally surrounding him.  I can still see his smiling little face peering out like ET in the closet.  He is a most tolerant person. His sister is as well.  Good times.

Ah -- the good olde days. In some ways it seems like yesterday. I used to pack snacks and drink boxes for them with an occasional toy or something to amuse them along the way. Nowadays, we tend to stop at Panera’s for lunch after we shop and cell phones provide entertainment while riding - if needed.  I sort of miss the snack wrappers and empty drink box days, but the car stays cleaner…so there is that.  

Growing up happens so quickly. But then .... you know that.

Big brothers... little sisters...

Having worked with my share of teenagers for almost 30 years, I understand what the Swedish author, Fredrik Backman, is saying when describing a person of that particular age in one of his novels. Backman writes: “…a teenager..., with all the divinely sanctioned charmlessness and impoliteness this entailed, sat at one end of the table like an irritable accessory”.  And – although I love that description and have encountered such surliness over the years, it is somewhat stereotypical and not one I have encountered with my own preteen and teenage grandkids. In fact, I find them fun to be around and to be active participants in my life. One grandson, having navigated those teenage years with success, is now classified as an adult. Where does the time go? Anyway -- moving on as time tends to do -- all my grandkids are clever and have great senses of humor -- humor that they are not afraid to share. The following is a case in point.

Just last weekend my one teenage grandson texted me a “phone photo” of his little sister asleep in the car as they were traveling on a family outing. She is eleven.  I didn’t notice it at first, but after he texted me the second time with a painstakingly kind explanation, I noticed that he had carefully stacked several coins on her sweet, little preteen forehead. There she was -- sound asleep -- a little angel with thick braids... and a large stack of coins protruding from her head. (How did I not notice that at first glance?  I guess I was admiring her shiny thick braids.)  Anyway -- after I stopped laughing, while at the same time wondering what she would later describe as waking up to coins raining down her face, I texted him that his uncle would be proud.   You see  -- his uncle was/is a big brother with a little sister too handy not to torment while growing up. Especially when they both were still living at home, he always found teasing to be something he could not resist. One of his favorite things for a while was to just pick her up and move her if he wanted the spot where she was sitting -- a tendency that she found most annoying.  Is this a big brother syndrome of some sort? Is being the target of teasing merely a part of being the little sister? Or – does it just run in my family?  You tell me. 

I, personally, never had a big brother… although … I did have a close family friend who seemed to love to torment me off and on… sort of like a brother.  But the thing is – I could escape from him as we didn’t live in the same house.  My daughter and granddaughter didn’t/don’t have that option.  Even now that both my kids are adult and on their own -- just this week my daughter’s big brother posted nutty pictures on Facebook in “honor” of his little sister’s birthday. It continues.  I have to say that I eagerly await the payback. At this stage that sort of thing is really sort of fun.

As I do tend to look on the bright side, the thing is that I personally think it is a blessing to grow up with a big brother in that it sort of forces the little sister to develop a sense of how to cope with such antics. I am thinking, for example, that my granddaughter at least was able to keep the forehead coins. Hope so. That would be a plus. Both my daughter and granddaughter are much better sports about things like this than I am. Is it because of the big brother thing?  Just askin’. 

Grief is a shared journey.

My sister died four years ago this week.  In looking back through her posts on Facebook in an attempt to recapture shared moments, I rediscovered the following that she posted on January 31, 2016. These words speak to me, and I am thinking they may speak to you as well. After all as some wise person once said -- we may each travel the road differently, but grief is a shared journey.

from the Deep Grief Great Love Group – posted on January 28, 2016:

Let me be crystal clear: if you’ve faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way, shape or form that your tragedy was meant to be, that it happened for a reason, that it will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life.

Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve. So, I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest that they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of grieving. Sometimes things in life cannot be fixed.  They can only be carried.

A Red Letter Day...

 

We have all had days like the one I am going to describe.  It starts out as a sort of a pain in the neck day, but actually turns out to be better than average -- even significant in some minor ways. 

It all started when I knocked the stain remover stick off the counter in the laundry room only to have it land beyond reach behind the washing machine. Now since that was the third item to find a place in the dust balls there, I decided that it was past time to rescue them all -- even though two of the items just needed to be thrown out. One was a plastic lid to something and the other was unidentifiable.  Now you need to have an accurate mental picture of my laundry room to understand the dilemma.  Quite frankly I don’t know how Meerhoff’s Appliances even got a washer and dryer in there... and they have done it more than once. Bless them.  Anyway – the room is the size of a toothpick box – more a closet than a room really – and not a large closet.  It's saving grace is that it is right off my kitchen and thus most convenient. Anyway -- it is sort of difficult to describe how you actually pull the washer away from the wall as it is sandwiched tightly between a counter on the left and the dryer on the right. To add to the challenge – once it is out, it is up against a wall and now blocks access to the rest of the room. So -- there is no room whatsoever to maneuver, and it is necessary to employ a sturdy step stool and a long stick with a cleaning rag attached to try to slide items out to freedom and with which to try to remove what is probably years of dust balls and grit. At one point I found myself on top of the washer.  It was impressive if I do say so myself. (The pole employed was one of those extendable ones. I so love those kind as I am on the short side of the height chart.) Anyway -- after successful recovery of the stain remover stick, et al, and having worked up an impressive sweat – mission accomplished. At this point I changed out my sweatshirt for a tee shirt and moved on to another project rather surprised that I didn’t stop for a coffee break. I was on a roll…

For some unknown reason, after I threw in a load of laundry to make sure the washer still worked, I decided to give three of my four houseplants a haircut. What a mess! That, of course, inspired me to move furniture around. Cleaning as I went, I managed to drag, push and carry until I now have a new, somewhat awkward, pathway throughout part of my house and an impressive black and blue bruise on one shin.  I managed to seemingly reduce the size of my living room area and enlarge that of my book room.  Don’t know why I felt the need to do this.  I simply get into the mood to move things around once in a while.  There are very few pieces of furniture that I am able to move these days. I am hoping that my new interest in chair yoga may help with this.  Guess I just like to do what I am able to do. It is fun once in a while to change things up a bit and to reduce the dust ball population.

It must be Spring! (Fingers crossed on that!)