My parents came to spend the holiday weekend with us, and after four wonderful days together, the Kid was devastated to learn they were heading for home yesterday afternoon. We were home less than a month ago for my niece's wedding, and we'll be home again in less than two weeks for a family reunion: doesn't matter. She loves her Grammy and Grampy and she
did not want them to leave. She'd had so much fun biking with them, and going for walks with them, and sitting between them at church, and eating ice cream with them later that same day. And no matter how long they stay, when it's time to go, she looks at me and tells me she misses them already
as they are driving away. Actually, Grizzy and I didn't want them to go, either. My parents are amazing, and we have always been exceptionally close. Grizzy loves to tell everyone that HE is my mom's favorite son-in-law ('tis true, he is.) If you ask me about my mom, or even if you don't, I would tell you that she is my best friend. And she is. I can tell her things I wouldn't tell another soul, and she would understand them. And Daddy, well...the Kid and I gave belated Father's Day gifts (I had forgotten to take them home with us when we were there that weekend--just too many things to think about, too much going on, too much to pack, all that jazz) and we gave the same to each--me to my Daddy, she to hers: wall hangings that look like pink and white ribbons, that say "My Prince did come--his name is Daddy." (We each wrote a love letter on the back for our daddies...they loved them.)
And we are all counting the days, impatiently, until their house in Michigan sells, so they can move here to share a home with us. And Betsy, now....if you ask her how many are in her family, she will always say, "They is five of us--my Grammy, my Grampy, my mommy and daddy and me." And when she draws her family, she draws five--two ladies, one with long hair, one with short curls, and two men, one with a beard and one with glasses, and a little girl in the middle, and we're all holding hands and we're all smiling.
So when she heard that the visit was over...well. Have you seen the Puss 'N Boots bit in the Shrek movies? That's the face we were seeing; the huge eyes puddling with tears, the little chin quivering...and my mom mouthed the words to me 'could we take her home with us?' And just about then what did my daughter do but say "I want to go home with Grammy and Grampy!" I explained that it would mean she'd be missing things like Kids' Night at the County Fair. And StoryTime in the park, when her daddy and I will be the featured storytellers. And the Sunday evening Bible school program, KOP (Kids Out Plantin') where I am the snack mommy, at her request (and where I spent an hour heating graham crackers in the microwave so I could use cookie cutters on them and cut out little teddy bears they could ice and decorate, but I digress.)
She knew all that. She didn't care. She wanted to GO. I was happy for her, and my parents, too, who enjoy her so much, and I packed clothes and toys and toothbrush and all that, and sent them off--missing them already as they were driving away. And oh, my house is so quiet! I was home alone all day today and never said a word aloud, because no one but me was there to hear it. A few more such days and I'll probably be talking to myself, but no matter. As long as I don't answer.....
No "Mom? Mom! MOMMY!"
No "Mom? Do I have to wash my hair?" (which she asks
every time she is in the shower, knowing full well the answer is 'yes.'
No "DADDY IS HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!" at the top of her lungs each night when--you guessed it--Daddy comes home. I do believe everyone on the island, if not in the village, knows the exact moment when Daddy walks in the door each night.
No endless telling of jokes, although I must say she is finally getting better at it--now that she's discovered joke books, that is. ('What's in the middle of a jellyfish? A jelly button!')
She is not a quiet child, unless someone is sick or Mommy has a headache, and then she is wonderfully still and soft-spoken. (And no, I don't tell her I have a headache
just to get a moment or two of quiet time, tempting though it may be.) And I knew that Griz and I were fairly quiet people, always have been, and that our evenings used to be all about music and candlelight and good books; one of us would sit on the couch and the other would stretch out, leaning back against the upright body...no words were spoken, nor needed. But we've got used to a small cannonball coming between us every chance she gets, and if she sees us kissing, she pokes right in the middle so she gets some loveys, too...grinning wickedly the whole time.
Our house is quiet. Our kisses are uninterrupted, and could actually lead us who knows where (parents of small children often forget the who knows where, you see....) I have a new book I'm dying to delve into, and I will lean against Grizzy's shoulder and do so, while he soldiers on with the one he's reading. We may open a bottle of wine, something we don't usually do, because said cannonball has been known to send goblets flying when she dives in...
And oh, how we will miss the small one who usually interrupts such quiet pleasure.
Comments (5)
My dear dear Gracie...
I will never get over reading your stuff. Especially on days like today when I read it and you're reading my mind. I woke up this morning with a sense of dread. The house was very very quiet. As you know, since the 'children' have moved in there is NO quiet in this house. I love every bit of it, you know, all the chaos they have brought to my life. However, when I don't think I can stand it any longer my little man Jerance comes up and doesn't say a word but gives me the biggest hug and kiss and tells me he loves me. Everything is good then. Well, I have become so accustomed to him getting up bright and early in the mornings and it just being us after Daddy leaves that this morning I was a little lost when I didn't get my hug, kiss and good morning. Then, of course, I looked into your life and the Kid made me laugh. It's gonna be a great day!
Another thing... Your mom IS an amazing woman. I would love to see her. I think the only way to describe how your mom makes me feel when I read her letters, give her a hug, or just see her smile at me is this, I know you know the feeling you get from comfort food. Warm homemade potato soup and crusty hot bread on a cold cold winter day, ice cold tea with fruit bobbing in it on a hot summer day, the way the kitchen smells when you are baking to your hearts content. The feeling inside you that is somewhere between warm fuzzies, melting, unbelieveable happiness without being giddy, and just an absolute contentment. That is your mom. That is how she makes me feel. As well as a million other wonderful things. Whenever she focuses on me I feel like the most important person in the world and just thinking about her makes me feel loved. You have the greatest mom in the world and from the day I met her I loved her and knew without a doubt that I was loved too. Sometimes I wonder if she knows what an enormous affect she has had on me, on my entire life, just by being in my world. She is the mom I wish I had gotten. She will always be my 'Mom Diane'. Ok.. sorry.. enough already!
So I send my love to you Gracie... to Griz... and, of course, to the Kid...
twin, I know exactly what you mean. Since my nieces left on Sunday, I have definitely enjoyed the quiet, but I miss the chaos, as well.
Just enjoy the alone time with Griz, for the cannonball will be home soon enough!
love ya, twin.
-k
p.s.
I was wondering when I'd "hear" from ya again. Reading you always starts my day off on the right foot. :)
Yes it is quiet.........................too quiet........whatever could we do with no kid in the house?........hmmmmm.........
Both parents and kid sound like "hoots" to love....
Oh my! Whatever will you do? I am sure you do miss your girl. This is good practice for "someday", however. I am not sure what I would do with the time.
SWEET CORN! I should have mentioned sweet corn! We haven't had any yet, but I look forward to it every summer.