Head under water,
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while.
The breathing gets harder, even I know that.
~ Sara Bareilles
You know, you have varicose veins.
Your hair is too dark and red.
It’s amazing how a person with such delicate wrist-bones could have such big legs.
What size are your feet for heaven’s sake?
You’re going to have to have knee replacement surgery if you keep running like that.
How can you just throw your extra pillows on the floor when you’re sleeping?
What is it with these Yankees? They are just the rudest people.
How can you not know what kind of wood your kitchen cabinets are made of?
Does that man have some problem with the type of sandwich I ordered? Why is he looking at me like that?
It’s such a shame you have such a smart dog but she has no obedience training.
Good heavens! I've never seen you so thin. You’re wasting away to nothing. (Okay, I’ll take that one, even though I’m five pounds heavier than the last time she saw me…)
Buying the Cascade with the Dawn in it is just too expensive.
It’s just insulting that the piano is not the centerpiece of the living room. The harp should always face outward. It absolutely must be moved.
These are the random observations of my Big-Haired-Texas Grandma. She’s visiting for a week.
An entire week.
With every passive-aggressive remark, I feel the slow burn grow hotter in my chest. I’m gonna blow. I just know it. And blowing would be detrimental for all parties. There is no winning with Big-Haired-Texas Grandmas.
She is difficult. (Think Bunny McDougal meets Church Lady meets Aunt Bea.) And please let me qualify my candid remarks by saying she has a reason to see the world in such a glass-half-empty sortof way.
Her father died before she was born. Her husband (my grandfather Jack) died of cancer when my dad was only 5, leaving her a very young widow with a very little boy.
And that little boy, her only child, was diagnosed with cancer when he was only 29. He died 4 days after his 40th birthday.
She’s had her share of sadness.
And it’s my duty to make sure she’s okay. To let her know we love her.
Love is a verb. Love is a verb. Love is a verb. I chant this over and over to myself…
Never fear. Little Jack to the rescue.
He senses Mommy’s stressed-out vibe and springs into action.
After a day or two, he decides that he will engage with Big-Haired-Texas Grandma. He gets up close and personal. Tilts his head to the right. Smiles broadly so his dimple shows.
Big-haired Texas Grandma melts.
No one, and I mean no one, can resist the dimple.
Before long, Jack has her retrieving items he's requested from his PECS book.
She’s here until Sunday.
She confessed she’s actually having a good time.
Thank you Jack. Mom owes you. Big-time…
Oh, and they are spider veins, thank you very much.