generations...

my granny used to call me "sheet-up."  she was brown and proud.  and her accent always made me laugh.  (sheet-up = shut up).  but when she would visit from texas, she would always say "oh, sheet-up!" and give me a sweet hug.  if she knew i was coming, she'd have a freshly made batch of warm tortillas wrapped in a dish towel.  if she didn't know i was coming, she'd start making them when i walked in.  i still can't make tortillas that tasted like hers, even with the same recipe.

she was average height.  salt and pepper hair which she wore just at ear length and parted in the middle.  sometimes she had bangs.  she always wore these canvas shoes that look somewhat like toms - way ahead of her time - either white, or black or navy blue.  i can remember years shown in wrinkles on her face, and her hands. i can remember how she smelled.  she liked to play skee-bo (skip-bo), chalupa, and bingo.  and she "never cheated."

my granny was my biggest fan.  she was my mom's grandma and was quick to tell her when she was treating me poorly.  i was perfect in every way.  to her, nothing was my fault.  and i could have anything i wanted.


the last time i saw my granny, i was 11 weeks pregnant with the twins.  bobby was 2 and a half.  that seems so long ago.  i remember taking bobby into her house that doesn't compare to anything here in california.  it was steps from a railroad track.  literally, steps.  the house shook when the train went by.  it was built sturdy, but looked rickety.  there were two rooms and they were very small.  the rooms and kitchen compared to the size of large closets.  i don't think it occurred to me it would be the last time i would go there.  i am glad i was able to take my son.  but he was 2.  and the house wasn't made for him.  i disciplined him alot.  for touching this.  for climbing on that.  as i tried to talk to my granny, i could tell she was mad.  she wasn't responding to me.  she would move her hand if i tried to touch her.  she would love on bobby when he would come to her, but would not acknowledge me at all.  i soon realized she was mad at me for how i was discipling my son.  because he was perfect.  to her, nothing was his fault.  and he could do and have anything he wanted.

my granny died the day i was admitted to the hospital to be put on bed rest during my pregnancy with the twins.  i think of her a lot.  i still have a music box she gifted me from a garage sale.  i have knitted plastic squares that she made coasters and placemats gifted for my wedding.  my granny didn't have much.  but she spoiled me in every way she could.

i miss her and think of her every. single. day.

this last week i was talking to my grandma about choices bobby was making during classtime (ie making a catapult in his class with a pencil and flying crayons).  she laughed.  and her response was, "well, if the teacher was teaching or keeping him busy, then he wouldn't have time do that."

oh, to have a great-grandmother.

my boys sure are lucky to "be perfect."