Red Pen Mama

I wish I had a better one.

I wish I could tell you all the stories of my grandmother’s life. Because they are great stories. How her parents met in Italy and traveled to the States. How she grew up in Erie. Her life with her brothers and sisters. Meeting my grandfather. Being the hatcheck girl at one of the Italian clubs. Her life as a wife and mother.

I know that my grandmother has told me all of these stories.

I wish I had listened better, or remembered more.

Because she can’t tell me those stories any more.

She doesn’t remember them. She can’t tell them to me.

Driving over to my mother’s house one night this weekend, she asked my mom, “Who’s watching your children?”

My mother said, “I don’t have children living at the house anymore, mom. Except for my husband.”

My grandmother laughed and laughed.

She does not seem to be sad. For that we are grateful. She has forgotten how to knit; she has forgotten how to play cards, except for King’s Corners, and she needs a lot of help to even play that. She can’t really read, because she can’t remember what she read. She can’t cook anymore.

Now that is a true tragedy, because as a pure Italian one generation removed from the Old Country, my grandmother knew how to cook. One thing I will never forget is her easy acceptance of my vegetarianism. She cooked for me before my mother deigned to. And she told me the stories of what she grew up eating.

“We never ate a lot of meat,” she would say. “Just once in a while.” Read: when the money was okay, we could have meat. Otherwise: peppers on Italian bread, polenta, tomato sauce, homemade pasta, pasta fagiole, ravioli with cheese… Oh, how she talked about food.

She was a baker, too, and no holiday or family wedding was complete without Grandma’s cookies: lady locks so flaky they melted in your mouth, pizzelles, Italian knots, biscotti, apricot-filled fold-overs — the list goes on and on. Thank goodness my mother has the recipes. I look forward to the day she passes them down to me.

Although I really should learn to bake first.

Today is my grandmother’s 90th birthday. We celebrated this weekend at my parents’ house. Most of my generation of grandchildren were there. She seemed confused, and got tired very quickly.

But when they brought out the cake, she smiled and clapped and sang along. And had a nice helping of cake and ice cream.

Happy Birthday, Grandma. I know you may not remember your day. But I always will.

I love you.

Your first grandchild (and your favorite!),
rpm

Since I don’t remember when, dolls have creeped me out. But not my Bun.

We have three dolls similar to this, courtesy of Day Care Lady. And Bun loves ‘em all.

Monkey takes their clothes off, and Bun walks around forlornly with the little outfits. She comes to find me, and fix it.

And even though dolls completely creep me out, I do it. I put their outfits back on, and even (gulp!) let Bun sleep with one.

“Bah-by!” she crows when she sees a doll. She cradles it in one arm, kisses its head.

Baby, indeed.

We are going to act like every day is Christmas around here! Or at least dress that way.

Monkey saw the “Santa” hat, and had to wear it.

I put these on Bun because I gave them a bath right after dinner, and I knew she would need another diaper change, and I didn’t want to wrestle with footie pajamas.

Bun puts one and two together and gets cute.

But, really, this is the photo of the week:

“It’s my birthday, and I’ll drool if I want to,” sez Bun. In so many words.

Yes, Virginia, it is really Saturday.

I’ve been reading a number of blogs from the NaBloPoMo days. Some people manage to take some really nice pictures and post them. Now, I enjoy taking pictures, and I do love the world of digital photography. But I am not the experts that these people are. I have a little point-and-shoot; I don’t photoshop much — I can remove red eye if hard pressed. And crop.

Anyway, the point is: I decided to see what my little point-and-shoot could do. I experimented with some extreme closeups; I bracketed to see if they worked better with or without the flash.

This is from the centerpiece I had on the dining room table for DearDR’s party. I received quite a number of compliments on this exceedingly simple decoration.

It’s a large white decorative bowl filled with Christmas ball ornaments. I came up with the idea all by myself. I had meant to hang the balls from the curtain rod in the front room, on lines of differing lengths. But I never got around to that. The fallback was very pretty, though.

With a flash.

No flash.

Flash, but too close.

No flash. Definitely too close.

I’ll have to experiment a little more (aren’t you lucky?). I can see that the flash adds shadow and depth in some cases. But I guess I can’t get too close because my camera can’t focus.

I mentioned a while ago that we were painting downstairs. Here are the before and after pictures. They turned out okay, but they do not do the fantastic job that DearDR did justice.

Here’s the front foyer, looking to the right as you come in our front door:

Here it is looking the other way, from the family room:

Here’s the window before and after:

I just love the color combination, plus the blinds and the curtains. We still have to iron the curtains. Got them at Bed Bath & Beyond! Paint from Lowes.

As you will see, we still need to hang some art (we have so much art to hang, seriously!), and we did leave one wall white. DearDR decided to do that on his own, but in retrospect, the room would feel too much like a box with it painted blue.

So, it’s the last day of NaBloPoMo.

I will continue to blog more often, because I have learned that I can.

And in that vein, I will certainly continue Photo Fridays because they are so darn easy.

A few images to leave you with today:

Proof that Bun really likes “Beefy Cheesy Macaroni”:

Abstract Digital Camera Art by Monkey. Call it “Couch with Finger”:

Monkey will stick just about anything onto her face:

And Group Hug with Nonna:

Finally: I Did It! (I Liked It, Too.)

These boots were made for walking.

Unfortunately not for a 3-year-old to walk in…

I have a ghost in my house that sucks all the juice out of a number of my batteries. It is killing my phones (cordless), my cell phone, the digital camera, and my flip video camera.

Monkey’s toys, especially the loud ones, are just fine for some reason.

I’ve managed to get some pictures anyway.

The Party’s Over

From Monkey’s birthday party. She was pooped out, but fortunately not too over-stimulated that is was difficult to put her to bed. We walked that fine line.

My Kids Like to Get In Things

From laundry baskets to a home-made tent. (Sorry I lost most of Bun on the latter pic.)

Yeah, Monkey is wearing a T-rex pajama top and no pants. Why?

Oh, my, this is easy. I may start Photo EveryDay.

Monkey likes putting stickers on her face.

I would pay to know what Bun is thinking. Is it, “What the heck is my big sister doing?”? Is it, “I can’t wait to put those little round things all over my face too”? Is it, “Where did that teddy bear go?”? Or is she simply getting ready to poop?

Monkey also likes to put stickers on her toes.

Holy, crap. It’s time to color.

A giant Bun is coming for you.