FabGrandma’s Christmas Memories

As most good Fab Grandma’s do, I have stories that I tell my children and grandchildren, over and over, at certain times of the year, ad nauseum…It is like a tradition to tell them even if no one wants to hear them again. So, with that in mind, here are a few of my Christmas memories, some good, some bad, but memories just the same. I wrote this last year on my FabGrandma blog, but like I said, I tell the same stories over and  over…

The first Christmas I can remember was when I was about 5 years old. I had asked Santa for an electric train for my gift. Wouldn’t you know it—he did leave one at our house, but he mistakenly put “To Preston” (my younger brother) on the tag. How depressing is that? You ask for a train, a vehicle with power to let you escape into all the imaginary far away places a little girl could think of to travel, only to receive a stupid baby doll that hollers “Mama” at you, all the while peeing sweetly into her little panties. Now I suppose that in 1957 no respectable little girl would even ask for, much less actually receive, an electric train. No, we were relegated to practising to become little mothers, staying home spooning gruel into one end and wiping poop from the other, of our darling little babies, whilst our HUSBANDS, the MEN, traveled the work in their trucks, trains, and planes. I wish someone would invent the toddler doll that would wake up during the night with an asthmatic wheeze and rattle in their chest, crying “Mama” in agony while it throws up on the bed and squirts diarrhea out it’s little hiney. They could name it “Reality Check Carla” or something like that. Of course, there may not be much of a market for it, maybe young women whose husbands were pushing them to have a baby could get one for their spouse…Or, it could be part of that child care course taught to high school kids instead of using those stupid eggs. 

Oh, I’m sorry, I was supposed to be telling a story here. Well, that little electric train was really cool. It puffed smoke out of its fake smokestack. We thought that was pretty amazing. And as far as Betsy Wetsy was concerned, my older brother cut her head off to find out how she worked. 

Several years later, when I was 9 and my sister was 18 months old, I asked for a jewelry box. In my little girl brain, I could see the little ballerina dancing around and around to the music from the music box. So, on Christmas Eve, all of us kids went to bed, too excited to sleep. After a while, we could actually hear Santa in the living room. He was playing with our toys, and from the sound of it, he seemed to be talking to Mama and Daddy. Suddenly, I could hear the music box playing—I think Santa must have enjoyed hearing it because he wound it up and let it play about 15 times. So, in the morning when we finally got out of bed and went into the living room, I saw to my horror that the jewelry box Santa brought was a satin covered, velvet lined pink box that was obviously meant for a much older girl. It had no music box, and no ballerina. The music I had been hearing was a wind up Fischer Price clock for my baby sister. I was too stunned to say anything. I tried really hard not to cry. I cannot think of a single other time in my life when I have been more disappointed. 

The jewelry box I received that Christmas stayed in my possession until I was almost 50 years old. My older brother had taken a magic marker at some point and written “DUMB GIRL” inside the lid. I saw that every time I opened that box. Maybe that is why I don’t wear much jewelry. 

So, fast-forward about 30 years. When my oldest daughter was 14, she could hardly wait for me to open her gift to me that year. For weeks before Christmas I had jiggled and wiggled it, shook it and held it, trying to figure out what was inside. It was not the shape or size of anything I had asked for. On that Christmas morning, Rebecca, Emily and Seth insisted that I open that gift first. Because of that, I think maybe I expected it o be a camera. Imagine my surprise, when the wrapping paper came off, to find a little jewelry box, with a ballerina and a music box! I cried like a baby! Those were uncontrollable sobs and a flood of tears. My children sat there, the looks on their faces telling me that they thought they had done something terribly wrong. How could they even begin to understand what that jewelry box meant to me? How could they know they had given me my childhood?  That there was so much more than just a little jewelry box inside that gift? Yeah, a stupid as it sounds, that one moment is THE moment in my life that I cherish most. I still have that little music box, and the little ballerina presides over my most precious jewelry.  All the rest of it goes into an empty baby wipes plastic box. 

A year or so after I received the ballerina music box, my children surprised me again. This time, it was Emily’s gift. That year, my son and I went together on a Saturday morning to take the test for a GED. I had never finished high school and Seth had quit as soon as he turned 16.  So, to get him to go take the test, I volunteered to go with him. We both passed with flying colors, and received our GED certificates in the mail. That year, Emily gave me a high school class ring for Christmas. It has the year I took the GED test, the name of the high school I attended when I was a teenager, my first name, and a tiger on the outside of it.  There is an emerald green stone, because my birthstone is an emerald. My initials are engraved on the inside.   I didn’t cry like I did when I received the jewelry box, but just knowing how proud my children must have been of me was a wonderful feeling.  I keep that ring in my ballerina music box.

Hope you all have a very Merry Christmas

Written by...Babe Karen -- @ Blogging Babe of the Month, Family & Friends, Humorous, Way Back When | Comment (1)

Becca’s Got A Boyfriend

My oldest daugther has a new boyfriend. And I am so happy for her. It does a mother’s heart good to hear joy and happiness in their children’s voices, even if those children are in their 30’s. 

She met him through Match.com. They talked on the phone and exchanged emails for over a month before they met face to face. When they did meet, it was about three weeks after she intercepted a line drive to third base with her nose. She had a broken nose and two black eyes, not to mention a cold sore on her lip. She said she has never looked worse in her life, so if THAT did not scare him off, nothing will. 

 I am excited that she calls me and tells me about the new guy, and how he made a “Gluten Free Zone” in his kitchen cupboard just for her. How he sent her an email first thing in the morning after he fell asleep and forgot to call her when he said he would. And how he took her out for crab cakes two nights in a row after he found out she loves them.  

I am happy because this guy has potential. Potential as a “Son In Law”, if you catch my drift.  I know I am her mother, but my daughter IS a very pretty, intelligent, sweet, person who deserves to be happy.  She is 34 years old, never married and has no children. She WANTS to get married and have children. And, if you want to know, I very much want her to get married and have children, if that is what she wants. And this new guy’s Match.com profile says he wants those things, too.  My advice to her has been “Don’t be afraid to love him.”  

I know if she has children she will be a good mother. She has been a teacher in a private school for children with learning disabilities. She has coached volley ball and basketball teams. She was a girl scout leader when she was in college. She knows just the right books to send her nieces and nephews to keep them eager to read. I know these things probably haven’t prepared her for 3 a.m. feedings and trips to the emergency room to remove beans from little noses, but it does show that she is good with kids. 

Yeah, I am going on about her having kids, when she just started dating him. But, you have to understand, she is very picky about who she dates. If he made it far enough to meet her face to face; if he made it past the first date; if she went out with him more than twice, it is a good thing. And she bought a dress. A little black dress to wear to his company Christmas party.  If she’s  wearing a dress, there is real hope.

Written by...Babe Karen -- @ Blogging Babe of the Month, Family & Friends, Hopes and Dreams | Comments (3)

Xomething to Worry About

You know that xong, “Xittin’ On  The Dock Of The Bay” by Otix Redding? It hax been in my head all day long today. And the reaxon for it being there ix xilly—I loxt my “S”. At leaxt I loxt the little plaxtic part marked with an “S” that ix on the keyboard of my laptop. I xtarted thinking about that xong when that happened, becauxe it made me think about all the money I xpent on our truck lately, and I thought “Well, xhit, What next? I hope I don’t have to buy a new computer xoon.” 

When we were travelling a couple of weekx ago from Gettyxburg, PA to Carrollton, GA, we had only gone about 60 milex when our truck broke down. There we were, “Xittin’ On The Xide Of The Road…” in the middle of nowhere, (ok, maybe not in the middle of nowhere, it wax in Leexburg, VA) truck broke down and towing a 34 foot travel trailer with all our worldly poxxexxionx inxide it. At that exact moment in time, I thought to myxelf “How crazy doex one have to be to get themxelvex into a xituation like thix?”  Then I remembered that I have a cellphone.  I called 411 and axked for the phone number of a towing xervice. When I called the towing xervice I told them my truck broke down and I needed a tow to the nearext Ford dealerxhip, but that I wax alxo towing the trailer. He referred me to xomeone who not only came prepared to tow both the truck and the trailer, but actually repaired the truck on the xide of the road and got ux back on our way in lexx than two hourx. We were xaved, but it had itx price–$260 for a new flywheel pulley and a uxed belt. 

All the rext of that day, we watched ax the truck battery indictor xhowed that the battery wax loxing  power. The next morning, we were at the Ford dealerxhip in Charlotte, NC having a new altenator and a new belt inxtalled—another $475. A 760 mile trip that xhould have coxt ux about $350 had already coxt ux more than $800 and we were not even half way there! 

We made it to our dextination without further incident, and have tried to be really frgual xo far, trying to recoup our loxx and hold the line on our budget.  My hubby ix wanting to take the truck in to the Ford dealerxhip again to make xure the uxed pulley the guy put on in Virginia ix going to be okay for towing the trailer to Arizona. He keepx xaying he can hear a “tweet” under the hood. I can uxually hear it when there ix xomething happening that xhouldn’t be, but I juxt don’t hear what he ix talking about. I think he ix juxt afraid of getting xtuck xomewhere that ix really out in the middle of nowhere.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I worry about that xort of thing, too, but in this caxe, I juxt don’t think it is necexxary. 

I am more worried that I will lose my “X”  next, and then what will I do?

Written by...Babe Karen -- @ Blogging Babe of the Month, General, Humorous | Comment (0)

A Tribute To My Mother

Back in April, my sister Linda was over at our mother’s house.

They were reading the local newspaper and there was a story in it about a woman who had celebrated her 80^th birthday with a big party. The newspaper had sent a reporter out to interview the woman about her life. My mother, who has always been a very quiet, shy, reserved and above all a very private person, said to my sister “I think it is ridiculous to have a story about that. She’s only 80! I don’t want any fuss over my 80^th birthday. It’s just another day to me.” So, my sister immediately started planning for Mama’s party.

Mama was born on 11/26/1927 in Detroit, Michigan. Her parents, Mary Havaschak and William Brouch, were immigrants to this country, having come by ship, through Ellis Island, from Austria and the Ukraine. They met in Philadelphia when Mary was a nanny and William was a gardener for the same family. They married and moved to the Scranton area, where my grandfather worked in a coal mine. Several years later, they packed up and moved to Detroit, where he went to work for the Ford Motor Company.

Mama worked in the billing office of Roadway Motor Lines in Detroit. My father, a lanky farm boy from Austell, Georgia, drove a truck for the same company. His charm and good looks won my mother’s heart. She rode to Georgia with him in his truck, where they married the next weekend with friends of his as witnesses. She never went back to Michigan.

Mama’s party started with her arriving in a limousine at the community center. There were almost a hundred guests assembled there to honor her on her day. Of course, there were her children, all five of us, many of her 16 grandchildren and 15 great grandchildren. There were friends, neighbors, former co-workers, and some of my cousins from Indiana and Illinois. On the gift table were many, many cards from people who could not attend in person. One of the commissioners from the county arrived and read a document proclaiming Saturday, December 1, 2007 as “Vera Stroud Day” in Douglas County, Georgia.

Mama’s first words upon stepping out of the limo were “I can’t believe ALL of my children lied to me! I never expected to be treated like a movie star!” (She IS famous, for her Stuffed Cabbage) Well, for the day, she was a movie star. My sister had a video slide show of pictures from Mama’s life, with music by Frank Sinatra and Glen Miller. It started with Mary and William’s wedding portrait, and ended with a picture of her that was taken a couple of months ago at a baby shower for her newest great grandchild, whom she calls “Number 15”.

For a while, we didn’t think she would make it this day. Two years ago she had a ruptured diverticuli and almost died. She came out of that surgery with a colostomy, which she hated, but made jokes about frequently. Last year, she endured another surgery to reverse the colostomy. This week, on her actual birthday, I called and asked if she was having a good day. “No, I’m not.” was the reply. When I asked why not, she said, “I can’t get up.” “What do you mean, you can’t get up?” “I feel dizzy, and I can’t get out of bed.” An ambulance ride to the ER later, the doctor discovered a urinary tract infection. And even though she was not feeling her best, she came out yesterday for the surprise of her life.

While I was at the party, I was reading all the memory cards Mama had received. One was from her older sister, Annie. It read in part: “Vera, don’t fret over being 80. I’ve been there, done that. Do you remember the one and only time we skipped school when we were teenagers? We went downtown to the theater to see Frank Sinatra in person!” I wonder if she saw him get out of a limousine? And did she feel like as much a star as he was? .

Written by...Babe Karen -- @ Blogging Babe of the Month, Family & Friends, Guest Blogging Babe of the Month | Comments (8)

7th Babe for December 2007

Deb, Jennifer, Julie, Liberty, Marye and I would all like to welcome the December 2007 Babe of the Month - Karen from FabGrandma.

Snipped from Karen’s About page:

In August of 2000, I persuaded my husband to sell our house and all our stuff, and hit the road in a travel trailer. We have worked in campgrounds and resorts since then. We decide where we want to go, then find a job there. Wherever we go, our children and grandchildren come to visit when they can. We go home to Georgia as often as we can to spend time with family and catch up with friends. I call myself a wannabe photographer, and try to take some photos every day. Some days I get something good, other days it is just practice. Other things I do to keep myself from going crazy are quilting, sewing, soapmaking, fishing, selling things on ebay, and cooking. My husband, Jim, and I love to try out the local foods wherever we may be. We like to shop the small produce stands for farm fresh fruits and veggies.

Congrats Karen and welcome to 7 Babes a Blogging!

To everyone else who competed for the title, thanks for playing along and I do hope you’ll join in later this month when we open submissions for the first new babe of 2008!

Written by...Babe Gayla -- @ Blogging Babe of the Month | Comments (11)