As with all parents, there are beautiful, magical moments with my step-lovelies that I want to etch into my heart and remember forever. This weekend - alongside the exhaustion brought on by constant bickering, grouchily-appealing every parental request and the usual nonsense - there seemed to be bucket-loads, but this one will suffice for now.
I am honoured to be part of both #1 and #2's nighttime routine. We snuggle, chat, I scratch their backs, and they whisper me confidences and fears. Tonight, #1 (now 11 and a proud middle-schooler) let me know, among other things, that when he's at school and missing his dad and I he sometimes tucks his own hair behind his ears "as it reminds me of you."
"...but it still annoys me when you do it" he said, quickly, putting his head back down in his Ugly Doll.
Be still my heart.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Grandma
My Grandma would have been 100 yesterday, August 1st 2010.
When she died, aged 96, people were staggered to find out how old she was. Embarrassed of her great age when she married at 30 (Shock! Horror!) back in 1941, she'd been routinely taking off 10 years "for the war" for as long as anyone could remember.
Grandma was an inspiration to more than just our family. Broad Scots, under 5 foot and bright as a button she was an amazing woman. She worked in some way or other (from secretarial work to running her own antiques store) from the day she left school at 15 until her even the temp agency couldn't pass her for 65 - at about the age of 80.
She saw so much in her life. As a child she lived in Glasgow, London and Brighton and was even 'farmed' out to a family in the Highlands for a period as very small child when her parents divorced. She lived through 2 worlds wars, a scarlet fever epidemic that claimed the life of her older sister, and a near catastrophic engine failure on a flight from Hong Kong (They landed in Beijing, where the airline had them all sleep in a big room. She awoke to see everyone had been covered up in white blankets, and for a full minute she though she was in the morgue!). She was around when telephones, radios, cars, TVs and then computers went from being a luxury to being necessary. She traveled the world and never ceased to be interested in everything. Everything.
There are so many little things that made up who she was. She loved music, literature, cinema, theatre and handed on to me her love of poetry. She was sweet, fun, incredibly warm, and completely incapable of telling jokes (which, of course, made them all the funnier). She gave wonderful hugs, and always smelt divine - a strange mixture of Estee Lauder's Youth Dew and toast & marmalade. She could break the bones in your hand with the strength in her thumb.
I remember distinctly the collection of necklaces she wore at the same time; their chains would get tangled into knots that I could sit and unravel for hours. She taught me how to coat fresh fish in breadcrumbs, and made the best Yorkshire puddings in the world. The only thing she could play on the piano were some arpeggios, and she'd play them at speed every time she passed an instrument. She could remember every one of my childhood friends.
I grieve that she never met my husband or my step-children, and never knew the happiness I've found here in the States. She would have loved Nashville.
I miss her every day.
Happy Birthday Grandma! 21 again? ("yes dear..." *hand-breaking-thumb-squeeze*)
When she died, aged 96, people were staggered to find out how old she was. Embarrassed of her great age when she married at 30 (Shock! Horror!) back in 1941, she'd been routinely taking off 10 years "for the war" for as long as anyone could remember.
Grandma was an inspiration to more than just our family. Broad Scots, under 5 foot and bright as a button she was an amazing woman. She worked in some way or other (from secretarial work to running her own antiques store) from the day she left school at 15 until her even the temp agency couldn't pass her for 65 - at about the age of 80.
She saw so much in her life. As a child she lived in Glasgow, London and Brighton and was even 'farmed' out to a family in the Highlands for a period as very small child when her parents divorced. She lived through 2 worlds wars, a scarlet fever epidemic that claimed the life of her older sister, and a near catastrophic engine failure on a flight from Hong Kong (They landed in Beijing, where the airline had them all sleep in a big room. She awoke to see everyone had been covered up in white blankets, and for a full minute she though she was in the morgue!). She was around when telephones, radios, cars, TVs and then computers went from being a luxury to being necessary. She traveled the world and never ceased to be interested in everything. Everything.
There are so many little things that made up who she was. She loved music, literature, cinema, theatre and handed on to me her love of poetry. She was sweet, fun, incredibly warm, and completely incapable of telling jokes (which, of course, made them all the funnier). She gave wonderful hugs, and always smelt divine - a strange mixture of Estee Lauder's Youth Dew and toast & marmalade. She could break the bones in your hand with the strength in her thumb.
I remember distinctly the collection of necklaces she wore at the same time; their chains would get tangled into knots that I could sit and unravel for hours. She taught me how to coat fresh fish in breadcrumbs, and made the best Yorkshire puddings in the world. The only thing she could play on the piano were some arpeggios, and she'd play them at speed every time she passed an instrument. She could remember every one of my childhood friends.
I grieve that she never met my husband or my step-children, and never knew the happiness I've found here in the States. She would have loved Nashville.
I miss her every day.
Happy Birthday Grandma! 21 again? ("yes dear..." *hand-breaking-thumb-squeeze*)
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