Grandma Diaries

by Tonia

“My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She’s ninety-seven now, and we don’t know where the hell she is.” ~Ellen DeGeneres


I come from a long like of fabulous grandmothers. My own grandmother captivated us with stories about the Easter Bunny’s and Santa’s house-entering stealth when depositing our holiday goodies. (Besides being a LIAR, she was a fabulous grandmother.) The day my own mother became a grandmother she grabbed a Vietnamese baby out of the obstetrician’s arms because she thought it was her new grandbaby. (Besides being a KIDNAPPER, she, too, was a fabulous grandmother.) Aside from these minor psychopathic tendencies, both of these women adored and were adored by their grandchildren.

I’m now a grandmother - not sure how that happened since I’m only 35 <eye roll> but I, too, adore my two grandchildren. I’m just not sure I fit the traditional grandma mold, though. My grandmother taught me to play Gin Rummy; I taught my grandson to play poker. My mother taught my daughter to sew; I taught my granddaughter to scrape out the icing from Oreos and replace it with toothpaste. When Rachel brings the grandkids to my house she races to grab all the magnets off my refrigerator because she doesn’t want to explain them to the kids.

One week-end when I had the grandkids in the car with several other family members we were all talking crap when Jayden asked with a big smile, “This is the bad side of the family, isn’t it?” Such accolades from one so young.

When I’m babysitting I always try to remember my own children’s teen years …… so I can get revenge. I feed the grandkids lots of sugar, let them bounce on the bed, and run wild through the house just before their parents pick them up. In fact, I’m thinking of retiring early so I can spend more quality time like this with them – just as they become teenagers. Heh, heh, heh.

Certainly my grandma image is different from my predecessors. Victoria Secret catalogues instead of quilting magazines lay next to my chair; my canning involves potato vodka instead of green beans; and my blue hair is quite different from the blue hair found at Furr’s Cafeteria. Someday, when I’m gone, the grandkids will probably be less interested in old pictures of me and more interested in my old Facebook status updates. Well, except for those boudoir pictures I have hidden away. OOPS!

But I’m crazy about these kids and I just can’t see them enough. Maybe I’ll get their faces tattooed onto my arms. Yea. That’s it. Grandma tats!

For your next girlfriends' get together invite moms and grandmas to write down some of their "less than stellar" moments as role models. Collect them and then read them out loud one at a time and have guests guess who each one belongs to. If you dare!!