Still Dreaming

It's just a matter of time before one of my kids ends up making me a grandma. (If you happen to be one of my kids, and you're reading this, please understand that I can wait. Really. Patience is a virtue and all that...)

I dreamed of my own wonderful grandparents the other night. My grandma Baga died when I was nineteen, and my grandpa Papoo when I was twenty-two, but they're as alive and lively as ever in my imagination--whether I'm sleeping or wide awake.

Baga taught me everything I know about domestic divahood. When I was about five, she pencilled large x's on a linen tea towel, so that I could embroider a turkey-red butterfly on it as a gift for my mom. When we cleared out my mom's house a couple summers ago, there was the towel in the kitchen drawer, ironed creases still fresh from when it had been folded forty years earlier.

Baga taught me to make a fine and flaky pie crust, how to thread her old Singer, and how to feed the bed sheets through the wringer on the washing machine. She instructed me on the fine art of mixing liquid starch in the kitchen sink, and then dipping Papoo's dress shirts in the stiffening concoction until they were just the right consistency for ironing. I still feel guilty when I use spray starch.

By the time I was six, I was knitting scarves and simple hats that tied under the chin and soon graduated to yarn houseslippers with pom-poms on top and even mittens. None of those early masterpieces survived, because they were happily used up by me and my sisters.

Papoo was a fabulous gardener, and I loved following him around while he harvested what Baga and I needed to cook dinner. Before he came into the house with the pail of corn on the cob, carrots, green peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, and raspberries, he washed the dirt from everything with the hose by the back porch. It wouldn't do to drag dirt into Baga's clean house, that's for sure.

From Papoo, I learned about running a business and the magic of compound interest and how to build a house without taking out a mortgage. I learned how to ride with my little sisters sitting on the open tailgate of a Rambler wagon in the back forty, and have only one of us at a time fall out. I learned how to bait a fish hook and how to tell a fish story.

If you could have the best grandparents in the whole wide world, what would they be like?

These days, is a grandma a facelifted, tummy tucked woman who lives six months out of every year in Europe, but sends personal emails to all her grandkids while she's away?

Is a grandpa a man who golfs with the guys down at the club every weekend, no kids allowed?

I want to be a wonderful grandma, when the time comes. What does that even look like these days? What should it look like?

Posted by Katy on 11/08/04 at 02:05 PM

Fallible Comments...

The best grandma in the world is the one who lives with me. She spoils my children (her only "great-grands"), insists on doing the laundry, and makes far too many pies and cakes for our waistlines.

But she is the greatest blessing in the world. What she gives is love and attention. That's all grandkids really need anyway. I'm 41, and I still revel in her being a day-to-day part of my life.
-----
Posted by Allegra on 11/08/04 at 11:27 PM
Lovely post, Katy. (And Allegra, your gran sounds like a dream!).

My one grandma was an almost square, soft lady who died suddenly in her sleep when I was young - maybe four or five. She'd apparently, according to the stories, been over to help Mom make borscht the day before. I remember being in a forest of legs as all my uncles from out-of-province came for the funeral. I remember a hymn we sang: "Will There Be Any Stars In My Crown?" I remember Daddy holding me up to look at her in the coffin, her sparkly brooch, and me looking back at him and being shocked to find him crying.

As for a grandmotherly identity myself - I'd love it. But I'm just traditional enough to want a couple of weddings first!
Posted by violet on 11/08/04 at 11:49 PM
Oh, Katy, I can SO identify! My oldest son has been married almost a year now, and I'm kind of hoping a baby won't be on the way soon, simply because they live in Texas and I live in Illinois, and I don't think I can bear the distance!

I'm just now getting used to being a mother-in-law...being a grandmother will definitely be strange. :)
Posted by Cindy Swanson on 11/09/04 at 01:26 AM
that is soooooo weird, my daughter started calling my dad papoo because she couldn't say grandpa. i thought he was the only papoo out there.
Posted by kristy on 11/09/04 at 01:29 AM
By the way, Katy, you just made "Quote o' The Day" on my blog! :)

And by the way, my kids have always called my parents "Popo" and "Momo." (My dad just passed away this past July.) My mom has told my grown kids that they can call her Grandma now if they want to, but Momo it remains. :)
Posted by Cindy Swanson on 11/09/04 at 01:34 AM
Allegra--I am so happy for you to have your grandma right there all the time. She sounds like a peach. Tell her I said so, and I am a very good judge of excellent grandmas!

Violet--You remember her in such detail! Age 4 or 5--so many senses awaken right about then. I wish you could have had her longer, but you will make up for it when you're a gran, I'm sure... :)

Cindy--I am a brand new MIL myself. I have a jewel of a DIL who will make a lovely mother for some future kids! My son is a fortunate man indeed. Thanks for allowing me to be your site's quote of the day--I've never had such a singular honor. Hey, my novel-in-progress involves a woman whose first grandchild is born when she's out of the country and how it almost kills her to know the "other grandma" is getting all the baby love. It's a comedy.

Kristy--My big brother Patrick (who died when I was 2) couldn't say Grandpa and so called him Papoo! (I do think there are a lot of Papoos among the Greeks. Are any of my readers Greek?)

As for the name Baga, my father put me up to this when I was a baby. He called his MIL (my grandma) "the old bag." I know, I know...how could a man do this? You'd have to know my dad! Anyway, he told me to call her "Bag," and it came out "Baga" and stuck till the day she died. She, being the good-humored sort she was, didn't mind a bit. :)
Posted by Katy Raymond on 11/09/04 at 06:29 AM
allegra, that is so wonderful that your grandma lives with you and is a part of your family in such a close and familiar way. i wish that was the norm in our culture these days...my own grandma is the most stubborn strong Italian woman you's ever want to meet..she's in her 80's, still mows her own yard and lives on her own. she was my surrogate mom growing up, and she provided a rich enviornment of amazing food, took us on trips with her, let us play with her makeup and stay up late watching tv with her on her great big bed. (jokers wild and love boat, anyone?)
as far as advice for you katy..i'm years away from thinking about being a grandma myself, but i know you can't go wrong praying for those little people even now, and when they do come along just letting them participate in your life as you do the things you do.

justadjust.blogspot.com
Posted by lisa on 11/09/04 at 10:11 AM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Still Dreaming It's just a matter of time before one of my kids ends up making me a grandma. (If you happen to be one of my kids, and you're reading this, please understand that I can wait. Really. Patience is a virtue and all that...) I dreamed of my own wonderful grandparents the other night. My grandma Baga died when I was nineteen, and my grandpa Papoo when I was twenty-two, but they're as alive and lively as ever in my imagination--whether I'm sleeping or wide awake. Baga taught me everything I know about domestic divahood. When I was about five, she pencilled large x's on a linen tea towel, so that I could embroider a turkey-red butterfly on it as a gift for my mom. When we cleared out my mom's house a couple summers ago, there was the towel in the kitchen drawer, ironed creases still fresh from when it had been folded forty years earlier. Baga taught me to make a fine and flaky pie crust, how to thread her old Singer, and how to feed the bed sheets through the wringer on the washing machine. She instructed me on the fine art of mixing liquid starch in the kitchen sink, and then dipping Papoo's dress shirts in the stiffening concoction until they were just the right consistency for ironing. I still feel guilty when I use spray starch. By the time I was six, I was knitting scarves and simple hats that tied under the chin and soon graduated to yarn houseslippers with pom-poms on top and even mittens. None of those early masterpieces survived, because they were happily used up by me and my sisters. Papoo was a fabulous gardener, and I loved following him around while he harvested what Baga and I needed to cook dinner. Before he came into the house with the pail of corn on the cob, carrots, green peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, and raspberries, he washed the dirt from everything with the hose by the back porch. It wouldn't do to drag dirt into Baga's clean house, that's for sure. From Papoo, I learned about running a business and the magic of compound interest and how to build a house without taking out a mortgage. I learned how to ride with my little sisters sitting on the open tailgate of a Rambler wagon in the back forty, and have only one of us at a time fall out. I learned how to bait a fish hook and how to tell a fish story. If you could have the best grandparents in the whole wide world, what would they be like? These days, is a grandma a facelifted, tummy tucked woman who lives six months out of every year in Europe, but sends personal emails to all her grandkids while she's away? Is a grandpa a man who golfs with the guys down at the club every weekend, no kids allowed? I want to be a wonderful grandma, when the time comes. What does that even look like these days? What should it look like? Posted by Katy on 11/08/04 at 02:05 PM Fallible Comments... The best grandma in the world is the one who lives with me. She spoils my children (her only "great-grands"), insists on doing the laundry, and makes far too many pies and cakes for our waistlines. But she is the greatest blessing in the world. What she gives is love and attention. That's all grandkids really need anyway. I'm 41, and I still revel in her being a day-to-day part of my life. ----- Posted by Allegra on 11/08/04 at 11:27 PM Lovely post, Katy. (And Allegra, your gran sounds like a dream!). My one grandma was an almost square, soft lady who died suddenly in her sleep when I was young - maybe four or five. She'd apparently, according to the stories, been over to help Mom make borscht the day before. I remember being in a forest of legs as all my uncles from out-of-province came for the funeral. I remember a hymn we sang: "Will There Be Any Stars In My Crown?" I remember Daddy holding me up to look at her in the coffin, her sparkly brooch, and me looking back at him and being shocked to find him crying. As for a grandmotherly identity myself - I'd love it. But I'm just traditional enough to want a couple of weddings first! Posted by violet on 11/08/04 at 11:49 PM Oh, Katy, I can SO identify! My oldest son has been married almost a year now, and I'm kind of hoping a baby won't be on the way soon, simply because they live in Texas and I live in Illinois, and I don't think I can bear the distance! I'm just now getting used to being a mother-in-law...being a grandmother will definitely be strange. :) Posted by Cindy Swanson on 11/09/04 at 01:26 AM that is soooooo weird, my daughter started calling my dad papoo because she couldn't say grandpa. i thought he was the only papoo out there. Posted by kristy on 11/09/04 at 01:29 AM By the way, Katy, you just made "Quote o' The Day" on my blog! :) And by the way, my kids have always called my parents "Popo" and "Momo." (My dad just passed away this past July.) My mom has told my grown kids that they can call her Grandma now if they want to, but Momo it remains. :) Posted by Cindy Swanson on 11/09/04 at 01:34 AM Allegra--I am so happy for you to have your grandma right there all the time. She sounds like a peach. Tell her I said so, and I am a very good judge of excellent grandmas! Violet--You remember her in such detail! Age 4 or 5--so many senses awaken right about then. I wish you could have had her longer, but you will make up for it when you're a gran, I'm sure... :) Cindy--I am a brand new MIL myself. I have a jewel of a DIL who will make a lovely mother for some future kids! My son is a fortunate man indeed. Thanks for allowing me to be your site's quote of the day--I've never had such a singular honor. Hey, my novel-in-progress involves a woman whose first grandchild is born when she's out of the country and how it almost kills her to know the "other grandma" is getting all the baby love. It's a comedy. Kristy--My big brother Patrick (who died when I was 2) couldn't say Grandpa and so called him Papoo! (I do think there are a lot of Papoos among the Greeks. Are any of my readers Greek?) As for the name Baga, my father put me up to this when I was a baby. He called his MIL (my grandma) "the old bag." I know, I know...how could a man do this? You'd have to know my dad! Anyway, he told me to call her "Bag," and it came out "Baga" and stuck till the day she died. She, being the good-humored sort she was, didn't mind a bit. :) Posted by Katy Raymond on 11/09/04 at 06:29 AM allegra, that is so wonderful that your grandma lives with you and is a part of your family in such a close and familiar way. i wish that was the norm in our culture these days...my own grandma is the most stubborn strong Italian woman you's ever want to meet..she's in her 80's, still mows her own yard and lives on her own. she was my surrogate mom growing up, and she provided a rich enviornment of amazing food, took us on trips with her, let us play with her makeup and stay up late watching tv with her on her great big bed. (jokers wild and love boat, anyone?) as far as advice for you katy..i'm years away from thinking about being a grandma myself, but i know you can't go wrong praying for those little people even now, and when they do come along just letting them participate in your life as you do the things you do. justadjust.blogspot.com Posted by lisa on 11/09/04 at 10:11 AM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Sooner or Later, We All Sleep Alone... Previous entry: So Many Books, So Little Time... << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Still Dreaming

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri