Back in May I decided I was going to go to paralegal school at a local community college. The program concept was simple: night classes for a year (because I already have a BA) and not terribly expensive. It was a slight impulse decision but it felt right at the time. This past summer has been long: I started a new job at law firm after Memorial Day, my basement flooded, my law firm underwent some serious structural changes where my job wasn't entirely secured yet, I got married, and took on a new job at the law firm. Nothing was stressful (just kidding, it all zapped my energy 24/7).
A few weeks ago I was worried I made the wrong choice. Like I said, it was a stressful summer and I could have used a break. I got married on a Saturday and paralegal classes started on Thursday. There was no time to rest and recoup: we were on the move and headed straight for more work. But I went to class the first day anyway. I knew I had time to drop out if I was completely overwhelmed; however, it did not feel like an option to me. I had committed to this decision and was going to stick to it.
My path to paralegal school after college graduation has been anything but straight: I've worked in retail, mortgage and real estate, financial advising, nannying, and file clerk. The legal side always appealed to me but it wasn't until I was in paralegal class, discussing tenants in common, the three branches of government, and beneficiaries that I realized I was exactly where I needed to be. Paralegal classes bring together all the pieces of my work history. So far, I can tie every class to another time in my life where I was expected to be an expert in a particular field. I have always prided myself on being knowledgeable in my job, even when I did not totally love it.
I know far too much about too many things but for some reason they are all relevant in class. Just last night in my introduction to law and the legal system I noticed how far ahead I am of some of my classmates, just because I am who I am. My professor was lecturing on the branches of government. My classmates were feverishly taking notes on what the branches were and the very short accompanying summary of functions. The girl next to me kept glancing at my paper, wondering when I was going to start taking some notes. I am not even a little sorry that my dad is a government teacher and I have known the three branches of government since first grade. I had no idea what the terms meant then, but I knew them.
My true government geek showed when the professor said it was nerdy it carry around a copy of the Constitution. I had to pretend I too don't do that. You never know when you need it honestly. This is the first and only time it has paid off. I didn't actually say it out loud that I had a copy but in a meeting later this semester I can let it slip that I carry one too. But this silly fact is just further confirmation I'm headed in the right direction.
So, I am where I need to be. It feels nice. I'm not used to this kind of flow but I'm growing more accustomed to it. It was impulse decision in May but one I fully embrace now. Will I be pretty busy working full time and going to school full time and studying over the next year? Yes. But it is only for one year. I can survive.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Sunday, July 8, 2018
When the Couch Floats...
In the simplest of terms, our basement had water in it last weekend. Simplest terms. The reality is that water was actually sewer back up and was 2+ feet deep. In our house. With our things. While we weren't home. But we're here. We're alive. And here's what we know now. Perhaps you want a refresher on our last adventure with water in our basement:
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A week ago we were in the Twin Cities for a weekend family gathering. We had just taken a nice pontoon ride around the lake (the dogs loved it) and were enjoying a campfire. My mom scrolled through Facebook at 10PM and saw that Des Moines had received a sizeable amount of rain. Sizeable amount here is 7-8 inches, depending on exact locations and source. Not only did we get that much rain, we got all of it in a matter of 30 minutes. I immediately checked my own Facebook, making a beeline for the neighborhood group I belong to. People were reporting anywhere from 2 inches to 4 feet of water in their basements. We were screwed and we knew it. We couldn't leave immediately. It was too dark to travel safely and we had enough to drink while enjoying the lake it wasn't safe to drive either. So we went to bed not knowing what the next day would hold.
Alarms started going off at 4:45AM we were out the door and headed home around 5:15AM. Did some serious Facebook checking, and it didn't look like we had any chance of a dry basement. We had no idea if we could even get to our house because there are some low spots of land that might still have standing water. We had driven to the Twin Cities separately so our solemn rides home on the interstate were relatively silent and left almost too much time for thinking. Cole arrived home first and I dropped our dogs off at his mom's house. We had no idea what condition our house would be in, but having dogs there didn't seem smart.
When I arrived back in our neighborhood, the majority of my street had people out and about. Relatives of neighbors were running around with extra hoses and shop vacs. Neighbors I had never met showed up in my kitchen to offer advice and try to help figure out how to get the water out of the basement. We tried a syphin but our hoses were not cooperating so that method became a lost cause pretty quickly. Our couches were floating in the water, our TV was fried, our bookshelves were warped, and books and DVDs we had worked hard to collect over the years were drifting around the room. We didn't know it yet, but we would need a whole new furnace, AC, water heater, and washer and dryer. (Who knew dryers weren't supposed to have standing water in them?!? It was almost surreal. For a short moment it felt like an out of body experience. We definitely each had a beer before 10AM and it wasn't like we were tailgating. Just trying to decide our plan.
For whatever reason, I remembered we had a submersible pump in our basement. I was pretty confident that is was on a shelf that didn't have water up to it. I waded through 2 feet of very brown, very gross, and very smelly water to find a soaked cardbox with a pump inside as my rainboots filled with liquid. I handed it to my neighbor Abby (who lives in the blue house, who I met 5 minutes before). Abby asked me how the pumped work. I responded quite matter of factly, " I don't know and the directions just floated away." Turns out all you have to do is attach a hose (or 3 to get us out to the street) to the pump, plug in an extension cord and you're good to go. Drained our basement in about 20 minutes. I get absolutely zero compensation for this, but anyone that owns a home should go buy a submersible pump if you don't own one already. It literally saved our lives.
After we had all the water (remember how it was brown and smelly?! Visual provided above!) out of our basement we were left with all of our soaked belongings destroyed and a layer of brown sludge covering everything in our basement. With the help of some family we managed to empty our basement of all our sewer laden goods. I took pictures of every last thing that left our basement for insurance purposes. It all went to the garage for the day until we got the all clear to move it to the curb for the City of Des Moines to pick up for free. My parents came to the rescue with an additional dehumidifier (2 is so much better than 1 here) and helped us wash and bleach the basement to decrease our chances of mold production.
Eventually the energy company came out and cut our gas line to the furnace and water heater for safety reasons. The last week has been hot, and no air conditioning to cool the house and no hot water for showers. Cole's mom was gracious enough to let us stay with her for a few days while we couldn't stay in our own house. We met several plumbers this week to pick a new furnace/AC/water heater and it gets installed this FRIDAY. I'm so excited for air conditioning and hot water again. We're bringing dinner to a friend's house tonight so we can use his hot water and shower. I'm not super fond of ice cold showers but I'm learning to tolerate them. We've been making due with a single room air conditioner so the dogs are comfortable during the day and we can sleep at night.
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5 Tips for Flooded Basements:
1. Make sure your homeowners' insurance has a sewer back up/sump pump failure rider policy. This will not come with the regular policy. It is totally worth the extra money to have it. So many people did not have that rider on their policy and had to pay for all their damage replacements out of pocket. We lucked out and had a pretty decent coverage plan, which meant we had little to worry about as we got our lives back together. Take pictures of anything destroyed. Once you throw it away it is impossible to prove that it was damaged in a disaster. Don't be afraid to take too many pictures. The insurance people will deal with it.
2. Own a submersible pump like I said above. https://www.menards.com/main/plumbing/pumps-well-tanks/sump-pumps/barracuda-reg-1-4-hp-thermoplastic-submersible-utility-pump/91250/p-1444428713624-c-1489153238832.htm?tid=-7986648483485010039&ipos=9
I'm not kidding around about this pump. Just go buy one and I'll stop pestering you.
3. Meet your neighbors before your basement floods. They will save your butt big time. It is nice to know their names before you ask them to trudge through sewer water for you.
4. Thank the people who carry your sh!t soaked personal goods out of your basement. (There was actual wet toilet paper in our basement.) God bless our own families for putting up with the crappy tasks (puns fully intended there) we assigned them and helping us out big time. We owe you. Maybe next month we can throw a big party or something ;)
5. It's all just stuff. We lost almost nothing that can't be replaced.
A flooded basement is the fastest way to feel 60 when you're 25. Everything can be replaced and we're quite comfortable with indoor temps around 78 degrees. We still have 4 walls on our house, we have our pets, we have our jobs, and we have our family and friends. We're doing alright.
The reality is we weren't that bad off. There has been an inordinate amount of laughter this week as we reflect on our housing mishaps and experiences. We are planning to make a photo album to commemorate this fun. You might think that 2+ feet of sewage water in your basement would be pretty bad but it wasn't compared to a lot of people. We didn't have 7 feet of water like some people we know. Our cars didn't stall and become so water damaged we have to replace them. Our neighbors were getting married in week and 7 months pregnant when their freshly finished basement was flooded with as much water as our own. Our wedding is next month and I have hardly thought of it in the last week because I have been so focused on basement things. I'm sure it will all work out.
My final piece of advice is: if you're couch is floating, you're probably in trouble but you'll make it out just fine.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
The Interview: First Middle Last
A few short years ago I was a college senior sending frantic emails and uploading resumes on company websites; as I reflect on that time I realize how many people I know going through that same phase now. Not just college seniors but anyone on the verge of a job change. It can be a little intimidating.
I was recently talking interview time slot strategy with a friend. She is one of six candidates being interviewed for a single position with all of the interviews occurring on the same day (good luck to that bunch of interviewers, because that sounds absolutely exhausting). She selected an interview spot in the middle of the day. She was second-guessing whether she should have picked first to set the bar high or chose the last slot so that she would be the final candidate they hear and be fresh in their minds. Here's the big secret that HR departments everywhere should yell at the top of their lungs in interviews but they don't: congrats, you got an interview, you're already ahead of almost everyone that applied for the job. If you've never applied for a competitive job you don't understand. My last stretch of job searching had me submit almost 200 resumes, many cover letters, get a few interviews, and receive no word on whether or not I got the job. (Pet peeve: after an interview when you never hear from the company again, even after you reach out to see if you got the job! Nothing irks me quite like those people and companies!)
The job market is scary. You never know how many people you are competing against to get an interview in the first place. One of my very first interviews in Des Moines was with Hy-Vee. The interview went very well and in the end they selected a different candidate because she had more experience than me with Outlook Mail (still a little miffed at such a small thing in a simple computer program). However that interview will forever stick with me for a single reason: they congratulated me on getting an interview. They told me they received over 150 applications for the position and were interviewing 8 people. I was special and I appreciated knowing I had what it took to succeed in the job market.
So back to the title of the post. Do you want the first spot, middle spot, or last spot in an interview? It doesn't matter. You are you, you got an interview. You could set the bar high by going first and shining or be the absolute worst candidate in person they meet and committee hopes the caliber of candidates sky rockets after you. Or you could go last and leave a great final memory in the committees' mind. They also could be mentally checked out from interviewing too many people that day or simply have their mind made up by the time they get to you, meaning you don't stand a chance no matter what you say. The middle could go either way, perhaps you are forgotten by the end but eons ahead of the first candidate they met. There is no perfect spot. Say the right things in the interview and let your resume speak for itself. You are great. And if they didn't like your resume in the first place they wouldn't have contacted you to set up an interview in the first place. Honesty and truth can succeed but don't be afraid to talk yourself up; now is not the time to be humble. The perfect slot is just in the interview itself.
Congratulations to all job seekers out there that have an interview coming up, I'm proud of you. If you keep suffering through interviews with no luck, you'll make it. People like your resume and eventually someone will like you in person too. Your time to shine will be here soon.
I was recently talking interview time slot strategy with a friend. She is one of six candidates being interviewed for a single position with all of the interviews occurring on the same day (good luck to that bunch of interviewers, because that sounds absolutely exhausting). She selected an interview spot in the middle of the day. She was second-guessing whether she should have picked first to set the bar high or chose the last slot so that she would be the final candidate they hear and be fresh in their minds. Here's the big secret that HR departments everywhere should yell at the top of their lungs in interviews but they don't: congrats, you got an interview, you're already ahead of almost everyone that applied for the job. If you've never applied for a competitive job you don't understand. My last stretch of job searching had me submit almost 200 resumes, many cover letters, get a few interviews, and receive no word on whether or not I got the job. (Pet peeve: after an interview when you never hear from the company again, even after you reach out to see if you got the job! Nothing irks me quite like those people and companies!)
The job market is scary. You never know how many people you are competing against to get an interview in the first place. One of my very first interviews in Des Moines was with Hy-Vee. The interview went very well and in the end they selected a different candidate because she had more experience than me with Outlook Mail (still a little miffed at such a small thing in a simple computer program). However that interview will forever stick with me for a single reason: they congratulated me on getting an interview. They told me they received over 150 applications for the position and were interviewing 8 people. I was special and I appreciated knowing I had what it took to succeed in the job market.
So back to the title of the post. Do you want the first spot, middle spot, or last spot in an interview? It doesn't matter. You are you, you got an interview. You could set the bar high by going first and shining or be the absolute worst candidate in person they meet and committee hopes the caliber of candidates sky rockets after you. Or you could go last and leave a great final memory in the committees' mind. They also could be mentally checked out from interviewing too many people that day or simply have their mind made up by the time they get to you, meaning you don't stand a chance no matter what you say. The middle could go either way, perhaps you are forgotten by the end but eons ahead of the first candidate they met. There is no perfect spot. Say the right things in the interview and let your resume speak for itself. You are great. And if they didn't like your resume in the first place they wouldn't have contacted you to set up an interview in the first place. Honesty and truth can succeed but don't be afraid to talk yourself up; now is not the time to be humble. The perfect slot is just in the interview itself.
Congratulations to all job seekers out there that have an interview coming up, I'm proud of you. If you keep suffering through interviews with no luck, you'll make it. People like your resume and eventually someone will like you in person too. Your time to shine will be here soon.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
It's the Little Things
Being a nanny comes with a lot of challenges: it seems someone is always being naughty, no one is listening, the dog is howling, and the questions never seem to end. (If someone asks me one more time if it is raining outside I just might say yes!) We have recently hit a bout of misbehavior in my nanny house. Boys with attitude and a "you can't tell me what to do" mentality. Their mother does not tolerate that and neither will I. Throughout last week I struggled with my job choice and how happy I was with it.
Last week I also made a deal with Boy #1 (B). B has a certain set of developmental issues that put him at a slight disadvantage in life. He doesn't seem to mind be different or not up to standard with his peers but once preschool hits I worry he will become more self-conscious. When I started as a nanny in January B couldn't dress himself. At 3.5, his twin brother does not struggle with clothing whatsoever (minus being a little slow and indecisive about character shirt choice) so it was quite noticeable that B was behind. He would throw a fit daily that I had to dress him. We are talking a 45 minute debacle of him running the halls and thrashing on the ground while I tried to dress him. I poked him in the eye a few times and he landed on a wrist wrong more than once because he would trip as he tried to run away. It was a struggle and I dreaded getting him ready every day because I would lose nearly an hour of my day to this; mind you I can't watch the Boy #2 or the dog running around the house either. I had to hope neither of them got hurt or ran out the door.
Rather than continue this nonsense I made it a learning moment. B needs to learn to dress himself. That's not negotiable. He is more than capable but had grown very accustomed to throwing a fit and being forced into clothes; he never learned to get dressed. So I taught him how to put on pants. He wears a lot of sweatpants with strings. I tell him every day, "The strings go in the front." Not many days after we started this adventure he picked out pants without strings, looked at me with a panicked face and said, "How do I tell which way is the front? There aren't any strings!" We had a discussion about tags go in the back but strings still go in the front if we have them. Yesterday I let him out of the house to head to the library with his pants on backwards. Some other moms pointed it out to me. Eh, whatever. We couldn't put on our own pants 2 weeks ago and we can now. I'm not going to fix it because he likes this new found independent.
Gradually we have added more clothes he can do on his own and fewer I have to help with. Socks weren't as tricky has he thought and short sleeve shirts are a piece of cake. Long sleeves? We needed a game plan as to how to get our arms all the way up the sleeves, but it got better each time. We made a deal on Tuesday: if he could get dressed all by himself he could make cookies (premade cookies where he just puts them on the pan and I space them out after so they all cook!). I said I would pick out his clothes but he had to put them on all by himself. And he did it! In a record 10 minutes too! He went so far as to put on his own shoes that day too because he realizes he can try before he asks for help. He can do his own coat now too. Sure, the zipper is tricky but if I get it started he zips it right up.
The takeaways in life aren't about teaching others. We all used to be helpless and needed a lot of guidance to get dressed every day. I don't know at what age it is normal to dress yourself but B got there on Tuesday. It was far more rewarding to play a role in his progress than I anticipated. We have plenty more skills to work on but they will all be accomplished, I am confident in that. When you're having a bad day remember how far you've come: starting with dressing yourself and potty training all the way to reading. Sometimes life feels a bit stagnant but there was rapid growth at the beginning that makes the now possible. It's the little things that make the big things easy now.
Monday, March 12, 2018
Decisions Decisions
This past weekend I attended a bridal shower (woot woot Katie!) and had a lovely time. At the end I met friend of Katie's who knew me to be one of her former roommates and wanted to know what I was up to. She asked where I live and what I do for a living. I informed her I live in Des Moines and that I am a nanny, still trying to figure out my life. Which is very much true. I left a less than stellar experience as a financial advisor that requires hefty tests to prove intelligence to become a nanny that requires no formal training, just a care of children and an ability to creatively problem solve on a regular basis. To be completely honest being a nanny was last ditch effort to leave my previous job. I needed a new job and was rather desperate but that's a topic for a later discussion when I am more distanced from the company.
But anyway, back to the original point of this post! Lately I've been doing a lot of self-evaluation, career wise. What do I want? (I don't know) What do I not want? (Lengthy list) It is a lot of research and online quizzes and reading to drum up a list of possibilities to consider and rule out from there. Life is complicated and to make matters worse college students are forced to choose a major that will likely define their career choices from here on out. Sure, sometimes you can make a sweeping change and a place is willing to train you on the fly but most of the world is to busy to take on such a task. I graduated from college with a degree in psychology. At graduation, I thought I knew what I wanted to do with that degree. As I experimented in other jobs my thoughts changed and I began to stretch my psychology degree further.
Being a psych major is a blessing and a curse: so many options almost too many options. Therapist, human resources specialist, guidance counselor, psychologist, researcher, psych tech. The list goes on forever because the major is so inclusive and adaptable; that is part of why I loved it in the first place. I entered college with a vague idea of what I wanted to do with my life and left with virtually the same feeling. It was a struggle at times to be very certain about some things (like choosing a major) and clueless about other things (what to pursue with said major). I envy the people that stepped foot on campus knowing what they wanted as an end result and made it happen from day one. Kudos to you! I envy the people that took a life altering class that gave them a proverbial shove in the direction of their dreams. I also envy the people that walked into a major with a very practical application and jobs waiting for them at graduation. It takes all kinds to make the world go round. Imagine if everyone was a doctor or an accountant or a teacher or a lawyer. If we all were the same what would honestly happen? Chaos and destruction I assume. I laid on my dorm room floor many times contemplating everything life had to offer and how I planned to choose something. Ha, not one has worked. But thanks to every roommate that laid there with me and tried to solve world problems.
We all have a life path ahead of us and we cannot forget the part of the trail we already blazed in our rearview mirror. It was important to you once and likely still should be. I don't even remember now why I took Psych 130- General Psychology, in the first place but I'm certianly glad I did. Growing up is a process and you never stop growing. Some times you feel like you might be shrinking or shriveling and then within a few weeks you feel like you are taking off on a growth spurt like a teenage boy over summer vacation. But it's all growth, I promise, and it is all propeling you to the best end result you can possibly imagine; full of happiness and fulfillment.
But anyway, back to the original point of this post! Lately I've been doing a lot of self-evaluation, career wise. What do I want? (I don't know) What do I not want? (Lengthy list) It is a lot of research and online quizzes and reading to drum up a list of possibilities to consider and rule out from there. Life is complicated and to make matters worse college students are forced to choose a major that will likely define their career choices from here on out. Sure, sometimes you can make a sweeping change and a place is willing to train you on the fly but most of the world is to busy to take on such a task. I graduated from college with a degree in psychology. At graduation, I thought I knew what I wanted to do with that degree. As I experimented in other jobs my thoughts changed and I began to stretch my psychology degree further.
Being a psych major is a blessing and a curse: so many options almost too many options. Therapist, human resources specialist, guidance counselor, psychologist, researcher, psych tech. The list goes on forever because the major is so inclusive and adaptable; that is part of why I loved it in the first place. I entered college with a vague idea of what I wanted to do with my life and left with virtually the same feeling. It was a struggle at times to be very certain about some things (like choosing a major) and clueless about other things (what to pursue with said major). I envy the people that stepped foot on campus knowing what they wanted as an end result and made it happen from day one. Kudos to you! I envy the people that took a life altering class that gave them a proverbial shove in the direction of their dreams. I also envy the people that walked into a major with a very practical application and jobs waiting for them at graduation. It takes all kinds to make the world go round. Imagine if everyone was a doctor or an accountant or a teacher or a lawyer. If we all were the same what would honestly happen? Chaos and destruction I assume. I laid on my dorm room floor many times contemplating everything life had to offer and how I planned to choose something. Ha, not one has worked. But thanks to every roommate that laid there with me and tried to solve world problems.
We all have a life path ahead of us and we cannot forget the part of the trail we already blazed in our rearview mirror. It was important to you once and likely still should be. I don't even remember now why I took Psych 130- General Psychology, in the first place but I'm certianly glad I did. Growing up is a process and you never stop growing. Some times you feel like you might be shrinking or shriveling and then within a few weeks you feel like you are taking off on a growth spurt like a teenage boy over summer vacation. But it's all growth, I promise, and it is all propeling you to the best end result you can possibly imagine; full of happiness and fulfillment.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Above and Beyond Grandparents
There's an older single man who frequently sits in the same pew as me at church. He and his wife started going to the church years but his wife has since passed away. Now just John goes. He rarely misses a chance to talk to me. He's probably pushing 80 (maybe older but he has no wrinkles and is incredibly mobile) but he loves to chat about his little projects: his garden, his woodworking, his kids, his grandkids. He told me today he is going to be a great-grandpa and he's so excited. I told him what a privilege it will be to be a great-grandparent. I told him I knew four of my great-grandparents and cherished the relationship with one grandma in particular.
A few weeks ago my phone buzzed and a reminder lit up the screen. "Call Gram." It was January 9th, her birthday. The catch is this is the second birthday she hasn't been around. She died in 2016 but I hadn't gotten around to deleting the reminder. I rarely missed calling her on her birthday and being that she lived in the same town as me (and was a block away neighbor for 5 years) I often physically visited her for the occasion too. One January I was in England for the month so I made sure to call her before I left. I was not about to let a trip halfway across the world get in the way of telling her happy birthday.
Grandma Evy was always special to me: she used to babysit my brother and I when we were younger. Our parents would go out for the evening or have a school function that we did not attend and Grandma Evy was the go-to option. Grandma loved babysitting. She knew when all the parties were at the country club and would call to offer her services for an evening and inquire about my parents' attendance. For five years we were essentially neighbors: we could see what channel she was watching on her TV. She used to walk to our house and carry her cordless phone in her pocket and still get reception at our house. She let us play fun handheld gambling games at her apartment; she had the coolest set of scarves and hankies and handbags around. I was envious of the collection. She made us chocolate pudding each time we came over, complete with whip cream on top. I had my own special pink tea cup I used at her house. She set up her card table in the living room with our coloring books and crayons (and on off chance she got busy and we had to get our own stuff out, the crayons were in the medicine cabinet at eye level). Every birthday card she sent had your age in quotation marks and it made us smile. She was incredibly self-conscious of her hair (god forbid we see it messy) and never left home without her rain bonnet if there was even the slightest chance of a sprinkle.
She was nothing short of quirky too. She and her brother lived in the same apartment complex and each had a subscription to a newspaper; they would meet midday and swap papers in the apartment parking lot so that neither one had to buy both. She was an avid soap opera watcher and would call her sisters to get their takes on the events of the episode. She always claimed she wanted to be cremated because she was claustrophobic and didn't "want to be trapped in that box." Truth be told I don't think she wanted to relinquish control of her hair to a stranger without providing input. She never learned to drive so we often joked about putting her in drivers education in her 80s. She never lied and was a quiet little thing. She was never much for a full smile but always had a pleasant smirk on her face. In my eyes she was special and did everything flawlessly.
During all her years of babysitting us in her 80s my parents had to prep us in case she died while she was "on the clock." There was a whole plan of what my brother and I each had do, complete with dialing 911 and getting a neighbor. In hindsight, we had nothing to worry about because we were both in college when she died. I always wanted to submit her picture to be on the Smucker's celebration on the Today Show. Alas, she was a handful of months short of it. She was the cutest little old lady I ever knew.
Great-grandparents are extra special. Grandparents are fun but there is something especially cool about hanging out with the oldest person you know with whom you magically share DNA. These people know so much more about life and your family; they know all the family secrets and memories. Cherish whatever ancestors you have in your life. I wish John good luck with his new endeavor and all future great-grandparents-those relationships are irreplaceable.
~~~~~
A few weeks ago my phone buzzed and a reminder lit up the screen. "Call Gram." It was January 9th, her birthday. The catch is this is the second birthday she hasn't been around. She died in 2016 but I hadn't gotten around to deleting the reminder. I rarely missed calling her on her birthday and being that she lived in the same town as me (and was a block away neighbor for 5 years) I often physically visited her for the occasion too. One January I was in England for the month so I made sure to call her before I left. I was not about to let a trip halfway across the world get in the way of telling her happy birthday.
Grandma Evy was always special to me: she used to babysit my brother and I when we were younger. Our parents would go out for the evening or have a school function that we did not attend and Grandma Evy was the go-to option. Grandma loved babysitting. She knew when all the parties were at the country club and would call to offer her services for an evening and inquire about my parents' attendance. For five years we were essentially neighbors: we could see what channel she was watching on her TV. She used to walk to our house and carry her cordless phone in her pocket and still get reception at our house. She let us play fun handheld gambling games at her apartment; she had the coolest set of scarves and hankies and handbags around. I was envious of the collection. She made us chocolate pudding each time we came over, complete with whip cream on top. I had my own special pink tea cup I used at her house. She set up her card table in the living room with our coloring books and crayons (and on off chance she got busy and we had to get our own stuff out, the crayons were in the medicine cabinet at eye level). Every birthday card she sent had your age in quotation marks and it made us smile. She was incredibly self-conscious of her hair (god forbid we see it messy) and never left home without her rain bonnet if there was even the slightest chance of a sprinkle.
She was nothing short of quirky too. She and her brother lived in the same apartment complex and each had a subscription to a newspaper; they would meet midday and swap papers in the apartment parking lot so that neither one had to buy both. She was an avid soap opera watcher and would call her sisters to get their takes on the events of the episode. She always claimed she wanted to be cremated because she was claustrophobic and didn't "want to be trapped in that box." Truth be told I don't think she wanted to relinquish control of her hair to a stranger without providing input. She never learned to drive so we often joked about putting her in drivers education in her 80s. She never lied and was a quiet little thing. She was never much for a full smile but always had a pleasant smirk on her face. In my eyes she was special and did everything flawlessly.
During all her years of babysitting us in her 80s my parents had to prep us in case she died while she was "on the clock." There was a whole plan of what my brother and I each had do, complete with dialing 911 and getting a neighbor. In hindsight, we had nothing to worry about because we were both in college when she died. I always wanted to submit her picture to be on the Smucker's celebration on the Today Show. Alas, she was a handful of months short of it. She was the cutest little old lady I ever knew.
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Great-grandparents are extra special. Grandparents are fun but there is something especially cool about hanging out with the oldest person you know with whom you magically share DNA. These people know so much more about life and your family; they know all the family secrets and memories. Cherish whatever ancestors you have in your life. I wish John good luck with his new endeavor and all future great-grandparents-those relationships are irreplaceable.
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