great grandparents
So, I don't know about keeping up this blog. Maybe everyone should just go to www.livejournal.com/users/alisa_beth because that would be easier for me. But, here's what I just posted over there.
Some people have the kind of grandparents who are their favorite people in the whole, wide world. You know the kind I'm talking about: the ones who would get college essays written about them (when the question is Who has been the most influential person in your life?) the ones who quietly listen and are your biggest supporters, the grandmas who bake cookies or some other special treat they know you like, the grandpas who help you with your science projects and take you somewhere special -- perhaps fishing (if you consider that special). I don't have those kind of grandparents and maybe that's why I'm kind of obsessed with grandparents and the idea of grandparents.
I only have grandmas, neither of whom are called the traditional "Grandma" (which has aggrevated me forever!). Mums, my mom's mom, was too young to be a grandma when my mom made her one (my mom was 24, my grandma was 49), so she insisted on being called Mums. Sigh. My dad's mom was already Granny by the time his children came along (Alias and I are the youngest grandchildren on the Mix side, and we're the oldest ones on the Blackwell side, which has always been kind of interesting). Sigh. So, Granny and Mums was all I had. Based on all the proof I gathered while I was a child, I have concluded that neither grandmother liked me very much. My proof is as follows: Mums always gave me a nightgown for Christmas (not fun...ever), Granny never even sent me a birthday card, Mums saved all the postcards and letters I wrote her while I was in England and gave them back to me upon my return (this might not sound strange to you, but she keeps an album of all the picutres and letters of her grandchildren on proud display for all her visitors and other family members...but mine weren't good enough for the album!!), Granny once sent back a letter I had written her when I was in elementary school because I had addressed it incorrectly (I had addressed it to Granny Mix instead of Mrs. Catherine B. Mix), Granny also never gave me a music box (a tradition she had started with all her other granddaughters) until one of my cousins basically commanded that she do so. As a kid, the fact that your grandmothers don't like you can be particularly troubling. But, I'm resilient, thank goodness, and have been able to move on with my life. I didn't really begin this post tonight to drudge up past hurt inflicted by my mean, cold hearted grandmothers, but I wanted to talk about my "grandparents" (who I've mentioned before on my blog, but I have a new audience now, and after all, it is my space on the www, so I can write about whatever I choose).
Tonight, Don called me up and asked me if I wanted to meet Ginnie and him for dinner at Applebee's. Of course I did. On my way to Applebee's I was thinking about how unbelievably blessed I have been to have Don and Ginnie as my sort-of-grandparents. They don't have any grandchildren of their own, which is a darn shame because they're the kind of people who should have twenty! Don was the subject of a major essay I wrote which won me a prize, not only do they listen to me all the time, but they've been my biggest supporters (through science fairs, orchestra concerts, college visits). Ginnie doesn't often make me cookies, but she saves the peanutbutter and cool whip containers to make me ranch flavored oyster crackers (because I love them so much). Don helped me with my 6th grade science project and took me down to the Oceanographic Harbor Institute (or something like that) one Saturday ... just him and me. They take me out for ice cream and bought me my first guitar. They're pretty much the greatest grandparents ever...but in all honesty, it doesn't completely take the sting away of being hated by my real grandmothers. Oh well.
It's 10:36. Tomorrow promises breakfast at Chick-Fil-A with the CIA, Angel Tree Shopping, FPSers uniting to solve the problem of AIDS orphans without presents for Christmas, and perhaps something fun afterwards with two of my BFFL's. I wish my cats would get along. Some days they sleep right next to each other. Most days they don't. I hate the worst nightmare last night that Chloe bit off Saffie's ear. I woke up this morning, found Saffie sleeping soundly by my side, and checked her ears to make sure they were intact.
"Jesus loved the outcasts, he loved the people the world loved to hate. As long as there's a heaven, there'll be a failure to excommunicate..."
Some people have the kind of grandparents who are their favorite people in the whole, wide world. You know the kind I'm talking about: the ones who would get college essays written about them (when the question is Who has been the most influential person in your life?) the ones who quietly listen and are your biggest supporters, the grandmas who bake cookies or some other special treat they know you like, the grandpas who help you with your science projects and take you somewhere special -- perhaps fishing (if you consider that special). I don't have those kind of grandparents and maybe that's why I'm kind of obsessed with grandparents and the idea of grandparents.
I only have grandmas, neither of whom are called the traditional "Grandma" (which has aggrevated me forever!). Mums, my mom's mom, was too young to be a grandma when my mom made her one (my mom was 24, my grandma was 49), so she insisted on being called Mums. Sigh. My dad's mom was already Granny by the time his children came along (Alias and I are the youngest grandchildren on the Mix side, and we're the oldest ones on the Blackwell side, which has always been kind of interesting). Sigh. So, Granny and Mums was all I had. Based on all the proof I gathered while I was a child, I have concluded that neither grandmother liked me very much. My proof is as follows: Mums always gave me a nightgown for Christmas (not fun...ever), Granny never even sent me a birthday card, Mums saved all the postcards and letters I wrote her while I was in England and gave them back to me upon my return (this might not sound strange to you, but she keeps an album of all the picutres and letters of her grandchildren on proud display for all her visitors and other family members...but mine weren't good enough for the album!!), Granny once sent back a letter I had written her when I was in elementary school because I had addressed it incorrectly (I had addressed it to Granny Mix instead of Mrs. Catherine B. Mix), Granny also never gave me a music box (a tradition she had started with all her other granddaughters) until one of my cousins basically commanded that she do so. As a kid, the fact that your grandmothers don't like you can be particularly troubling. But, I'm resilient, thank goodness, and have been able to move on with my life. I didn't really begin this post tonight to drudge up past hurt inflicted by my mean, cold hearted grandmothers, but I wanted to talk about my "grandparents" (who I've mentioned before on my blog, but I have a new audience now, and after all, it is my space on the www, so I can write about whatever I choose).
Tonight, Don called me up and asked me if I wanted to meet Ginnie and him for dinner at Applebee's. Of course I did. On my way to Applebee's I was thinking about how unbelievably blessed I have been to have Don and Ginnie as my sort-of-grandparents. They don't have any grandchildren of their own, which is a darn shame because they're the kind of people who should have twenty! Don was the subject of a major essay I wrote which won me a prize, not only do they listen to me all the time, but they've been my biggest supporters (through science fairs, orchestra concerts, college visits). Ginnie doesn't often make me cookies, but she saves the peanutbutter and cool whip containers to make me ranch flavored oyster crackers (because I love them so much). Don helped me with my 6th grade science project and took me down to the Oceanographic Harbor Institute (or something like that) one Saturday ... just him and me. They take me out for ice cream and bought me my first guitar. They're pretty much the greatest grandparents ever...but in all honesty, it doesn't completely take the sting away of being hated by my real grandmothers. Oh well.
It's 10:36. Tomorrow promises breakfast at Chick-Fil-A with the CIA, Angel Tree Shopping, FPSers uniting to solve the problem of AIDS orphans without presents for Christmas, and perhaps something fun afterwards with two of my BFFL's. I wish my cats would get along. Some days they sleep right next to each other. Most days they don't. I hate the worst nightmare last night that Chloe bit off Saffie's ear. I woke up this morning, found Saffie sleeping soundly by my side, and checked her ears to make sure they were intact.
"Jesus loved the outcasts, he loved the people the world loved to hate. As long as there's a heaven, there'll be a failure to excommunicate..."
posted by alisa beth at 10:47 PM
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