Family is not an important thing, it’s everything. ~Michael J. Fox

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.
George Bernard Shaw

Happy is said to be the family which can eat onions together. They are, for the time being, separate, from the world, and have a harmony of aspiration.
Charles Dudley Warner

Family. Can there be a more prickly source of joy and despair in our lives? Last night my children, Daryn and Kerryn, came to have dinner with me. We haven’t had a meal together just the three of us in years. There were a good many conversations that began “remember when…”

Daryn brought Kerryn his electronic key board (she wants to learn to play the piano and is planning to take piano lessons!) and while I got dinner on the table and took pictures of it, she began trying to play chopsticks. I was immediately transported back in time, wandering down memory lane. That was the one piece I taught them as youngsters and they loved the fact that we could all three play a part. Whenever we got near a piano back in the early years the three of us would play chopsticks.

Last night was special. My kids became kids again and I was the Mom. We were the family of origin once again.  The salient unit. Happy being together.

Sadly, I forgot to take pictures of THEM. I’m pretty sure they enjoyed having just the three of us together without spouses, grandchildren and extended family members present. We’ll have to remember to do it more often.

On the menu: “left over” Boef Bourguinon (I froze some of the beef and broth when I made it a couple of weeks ago and added fresh vegetables. Fairly quick and easy.) and Dairy Free “Buttermilk” Biscuits. It was a great meal for a night spitting rain and snow and the biscuits turned out really well.  So far I have had only one failure with my egg and dairy free adaptions of family recipes.  That’s amazing!

Barbara Gavin-Lewellyn

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Life at the Three Threes: HUD Inspections

Life at the Three Threes is ummm…interesting to say the least. I love living in downtown Madison and having the University so near. The energy of so many young people roaming the streets and patronizing the same business establishments I patronize is exhilarating. Living on the 9^th floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city is excellent. I’ve got a view! Having the Senior Center where I volunteer and socialize keeps me from becoming socially isolated. As an extrovert with introvert tendencies I really need and enjoy that outlet.

And then there is the Three Threes (the building street address is 333) itself. This building is HUD Housing meaning the rent I pay is based on my income and the rest is paid by a federal program with the Department of Housing and Urban Development. The residents are either senior citizens or disabled in some way.  The staff here is primo! We couldn’t ask for nicer and better folks in the office or on the maintenance staff. They all have an excellent sense of humor and are kind and helpful to the inmates err…residents.

Jill, in the front office, reigns with a quiet fair-minded benevolence. Gina, the resident activities coordinator and Jill’s assistant is creative and enthusiastic as well as fun to hang with. Erica, the Services Manager (she helps us get the social services we need to stay independent and healthy) is the BEST! I want to hook her up with my son.

The building is extremely well maintained and if you ask for something or there is a problem Vern and Scott are Johnny on the spot. Eldegard (I may have misspelled that—it’s Spanish) keeps the common areas spotless. They are all pleasant and nice folks.

BUT…(you just knew there was a but in there, didn’t you?) there are some things I (and most everyone else here) don’t like about living in HUD housing. Yearly inspections are one of them. A lot of people hate it with a purple passion but I’m generally pretty stoic about it. It forces me to spring clean which is a good thing and I sort of appreciate the push to do what I should be doing anyway.

But I don’t like it. It’s stressful. It takes all the fun out of spring cleaning which is that I do it because I feel like opening and washing the windows and as long as there is fresh air let’s get rid of all those pent up winter smells that accumulate. I’m in the mood and energized. Bring on the Pine Sol!

Besides that, I don’t particularly like young, healthy, physically active people coming in and judging my housekeeping skills. It doesn’t matter how nice they are. It’s unnerving.

Inspections take that away from me for the most part but whatever… I can deal. However, this year I am in the “hating it with a purple passion” camp. I have been incredibly busy for the past 4 weeks running to the chiropractor, the vet, and today I have to go see my GP. My son’s birthday was last Sunday. That may not seem like much but for me, it’s exhausting.

When I got the notice last Friday that they were going to be doing inspections THIS Thursday (that’s tomorrow), I was horrified. I was baking a cake on Saturday. Saturday night I was going out of town until Sunday evening. I had a Chiropractor appt Monday, Bridge on Tuesday, Dr’s appt on Wednesday. I need naps every afternoon. Serious two-three hour naps or I get sick. Just when was I going to find time to clean? Especially since they want the oven, refrigerator, bathroom, and carpet looking good. Oy…

If I fail this inspection then they will put me on horror of horrors quarterly inspections. Good gawd…

Don’t get me wrong, I think I am one of the luckiest people I know to live here in affordable housing that is well taken care of. I try to remember to count my blessings and not bitch a lot. Today I’m bitching.

Bless her heart my daughter is coming over tonight to clean the oven because that always triggers an asthma attack for me and needs its own day all by itself. And I’ve taken on the attitude that what gets done gets done. If they put me on quarterly inspections I’m going straight to Erica and asking her to help me find some housekeeping help. I’ve always wanted a maid.

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“Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.” Bob Dylan

To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die.

- Thomas Campbell

I didn’t exactly make a New Year’s resolution to start writing in this blog again but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.  I really should; I have so much to say.  <hehehe> So here we are already three weeks into the New Year and a post is born.

My daughter was here last week and somehow we got onto the subject of how people who live here or their relatives dispose of their stuff when they leave to go into a assisted living, nursing home or the funeral parlor.  There are often this building’s version of a garage sale.  A notice is posted on the bulletin board that such and such an apartment is having a moving sale and the apartment is opened up for a couple of days for the browsers and bargain hunters.  Sometimes there is a notice that if you need something, come have a look see and it’s yours for the taking.

That’s how I got some bowls and plates my daughter was admiring (and that’s how this conversation got started).   That’s what I want to happen to my stuff when the time comes.  Not that I’m planning on going anywhere soon but when you get to my age and have the health problems I have, AND you live in a building where more than half the residents are Senior Citizens who are moving on to somewhere else with alarming frequency you think about these things.

So I told Kerryn that she and her brother should take what they want and give the rest of it away.  Of course that got us started on a walk down menory lane as we glanced around my apartment and she pointed out some things that had sentimental value to her.  That reminded me of the most important thing I have that belonged to my Grandmother.  My kids have heard the story about the nearly 100 year old bird of paradise milkweed pod I have carefully drug around with me since 1974 more than once but of course it doesn’t have as much significance for them as it does me because they didn’t really know my Gramma Della Hoyt Fate.  It makes me sad to think that after I go (aka die) that memento and the memories connected to it  will be lost.  She told me I should write the story down so it would survive me.  So here it is.

This is a picture of the milkweed pod my Gramma, Della Fate kept in her bedroom, hanging on her mirror.  It was picked on the property my Grandfather owned on the day he asked her to marry him so let’s do some math here.    Grandmother was 80 years old when she died in 1974 so that means she was born June 13, 1984.  She was 22 years old when she married my Grandfather and if I remember correctly,  they had a fairly long engagement–at least a year.  Probably two.  So this milkweed pod is at least 96 years old. It hangs on a picture of some Victorian Ladies in my bedroom.

That potholder is an example of some of the fancy crochet work my grandmother used to do.  I really regret not keeping one of the high heeled slippers she made in the ’60s and stiffened with some kind of starch so they would stand up. She made a lot of them and gave them away as gifts to the ladies in her Bible Study and Prayer group.  They were really cute but not exactly something this budding hippy was interested in.  She also made a lot of doilies and stuff.  For a long, long time time I had a purple and lavender flowered towel with crocheted lavender borders that she made for me as a young teen.  Those were my favorite colors at the time.  Eventually the towel wore out and the crocheting disintegrated.

But my favorite were her rag rugs.  In the summer she would sit out on what she called the North porch  (it was enclosed and essentially served as an additional room on the house for three seasons) and rip old dresses and remnants of fabric into long strips which she then sewed together on her old treadle machine (which I have) and rolled into huge balls.  (The north porch led to her front door and the South porch led to her back door but I always found that confusing because I think the North porch faced east and the South porch faced North.  <shrug>)  Then in the winter she used a giant crochet hook and turned them into rag rugs.  I used to help her with rolling those strips of fabric into balls.  My favorite memories of my Gramma take place on that porch.  I even had my own rocking chair there.

Here’s Barbra Streisand singing my favorite song about memories.  I love this song.  I’d like it played at my memorial service.

Memories, light the corners of my mind/ Misty watercolor memories/ of the way we were. Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind/ smiles we give to one another/ for the way we were. Can it be that it was all so simple then/ or has time rewritten every line?

The Way We Were Lyrics  Barbara Streisand

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The Nightmare Before Christmas

I always go to Edgerton to spend Halloween with my children. Halloween is my Daughter and Son-in-law’s favorite holiday and of course my seven year old Gr-son gets hugely excited by the festivities. The wife of their best friends who live next door was born on Halloween so they have a birthday party for her as well.  Generally they take friend’s young son trick or treating with them while friends go out to dinner.

Son-in-law really gets into Halloween and goes all out decorating his front yard and porch up as spookily as possible.  His theme is a graveyard and skeletons, of course.  I generally help him out by shopping the after Halloween clearance sales for his Christmas presents and getting  him skeletons to add to his collection.

I haven’t hit Walgreens yet to see what they have but I think I want to get him a t-shirt with a skeleton on it if I can find it.  He was wearing the one he has for part of his costume this year and it is terribly faded and ragged around the edges.  Not that that is necessarily bad from his point of view, I suspect but it might be nice to get a new one he can start wearing under his mailman uniform this winter so it will have that appropriate worn out look in a couple of years.  <heh>

He alternates between being a skeleton and Jack from “The Nightmare before Christmas.”   He has a wonderful Jack costume and my daughter has a great Patty costume.  If they could get the Gr-Son to do one of the other characters instead of a super hero it would be wonderful but of course Gr-son loves the super hero costumes.  This year he was a Transformer.

Funny, I never let my kids buy costumes.  Ever.  And it wasn’t because we couldn’t afford them.  It was because I wanted them to use their imaginations and come up with great costumes the way my brothers and I did way back when.  Now you hardly ever see home made costumes and I suppose if I was my daughter I would not make my Gr-Son use his imagination either even though between his Mom, Dad and himself they could surely put together something better than that ticky tacky stuff passing for costumes.

I bought the kids a better grade of chocolates and little toys for their goody bags although I wish I had gotten them here in Madison rather than waiting until I got to Edgerton.  Russel Stover’s are NOT GOOD chocolates in my opinion!  I made good choices for all of them.  Baby T really liked her little ladybug noise maker.  She was so cute with it.

I got pictures of everything but I’m having problems with my photo program.   It’s a real puzzler.  Stinking ‘Puters!

B

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Where Is My Little Dog Now?/My boy, my girl, my pride and joy, bessings all

 

Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone
Oh where, oh where can he be
With his ears cut short and his tail cut long
Oh where, oh where can he be?

Disney?

I am in such an incredibly good mood. Every-thing’s going my way! The Isthmus is quoting me. My Blogs are cooking right along, I’m writing daily without a struggle, I am pretty sure I have found the Dog of my dreams and I am not in excruciating pain 24/7 just 12/3 and 1/2 <snort> Actually, I think I am just finding it easier to ignore the pain because I am engaged in the world and enjoying myself.

I’m this close >< to getting a dog. It’s a choice between a dachshund/beagle mix–a Dachsle and a Yorkshire Terrier/Chihuahua mix–Yorchi. I’m leaning heavily towards the Dachsle because he is cheaper, looks just like my dog when I was a teenager, is low maintenance, and is probably less spoiled than the Yorchi who sounds like a holy terror from the way his ‘Mom’ described him.

The Yorchi is cute as a button but he is four years old and has never been neutered so he’s full of piss and vinegar. It sounds as though he has been spoiled rotten and needs some serious obedience training. I could DO that but do I WANT to? ummm NOT if I don’t HAVE to. There is also the cost. He will cost twice as much as the Dachsle who comes with a kennel and all of his toys and stuff.

I really like the Yorchi’s ‘Mom’ who is my son’s co-worker. And I think I will feel bad if I say no because she really really wants me to take this dog because she has such a high opinion of my son that she thinks *I* would be a great ‘Mom’ for her baby sight unseen. That is so flattering and I am so proud of my son for being such a nice guy that people think *I* must have been a great mother. That is so cool but he deserves so much credit for making the right choices in life when he could have very easily taken the wrong path.

For all the care and heartache
Life has brought to me
One precious gift has made it all worthwhile
For heaven blessed and with great joy rewarded me
For I can look and see my own beloved son

My son, my son just do the best you can
Then in my heart I’m sure
You’ll face life like a man

My pride and joy
My life, my boy
My son, my son

Vera Lynn

The song quoted above is a little misleading since I have a daughter I am also immesely proud of. I have spoken of her before in this Blog. My children are indeed my pride and joy. I have trouble expressing that sometimes. Intellectually I know that what I am about to say is crazy thinking but it is always there in the back of my mind that if things are going too well for me and mine and I express my happiness and pride in my life it will somehow be destroyed.

I need to get over that fear big time because it is putting such a damper on my relationship with my children. I love them so much but showing that love has become so difficult, I am literally subconsciously afraid that *I* will destroy THEM. Maybe by saying these things out loud on this Blog I can dispel that fear. How much more public can I get?

Oh, BTW, Thanks Mom and Dad for installing this huge fear into my ego, id or super ego or WHATever. Lovely.

B

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Can You See My Eyes? Gimme That Hair!

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer hair
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddyHair, hair, hair, hair
Grow it, show it
Long as I can grow it
My hair

The Cowsills

I have fairly long hair–long enough that when I sit down it catches against the back of the chair and annoys me. Unfortunately, I am beginning to experience the family curse. Alopecia Areata. In other words, I’m balding. I started out with incredibly thick hair so its taking awhile.

I’ll admit it. I’m vain about my hair. I think it has always been my best feature. It’s a medium auburn, it’s shiny, and it has a lot of natural body. If it wasn’t so thick and heavy it would be curly and was when I was a little girl. I love my hair. Yup, I’m pretty attached to it.

I’ve been wearing my hair parted(going north you might say) so last night, I was standing in front of the mirror brushing my teeth minding my own business when a wild hair (all puns intended) struck me. Bangs would look nice. Before I could stop myself, I had a pair of scissors in my hands and I was snipping away. Voi`la Bangs!

I hope I don’t regret this. My favorite way to wear my hair is up in a french twist and it would do this really cool swoopy thing before I cut the bangs. I’m guessing I won’t get the swoopy thing anymore. But I’m not cursed with a forehead you could land a 747 on anymore either. <heh>

I think I like them. I washed my hair this morning and fiddled with them a bit and it’s going to be a lot easier to keep my hair out of my face without using lots of product on it. That’s a good thing as Martha would say.

I wonder what my daughter will say. She’s the beautician of the family. She’ll probably be peeved I didn’t wait and let her do the honors. Ohhh well. I need the ends trimmed and I’ll let her chop a couple of inces off.  I quit “covering up the gray” so there’s some dyed stuff that doesn’t really match.  I’m going to be a lovely silver when it all turns.

My daughter wants me to get it cut short. She thinks I’m too old for long hair and she could give me a really cute cut that would be much more flattering. I tell her I’m doing the Tyne Daly thing and MYOB. My daughter wishes I was a more sterotypical suburban Grandma type Mom. She doesn’t appreciate my free spirit radical hippie style. Whatever.

Hopefully my hair loss will continue to be gradual and I won’t end up going whole hog with Areata Universalis which is complete and total hair loss over your total body. Yeah, even down there. The good news is you don’t have to shave your legs anymore. The bad news is that you have to paint on your eyebrows and use false eyelashes. Wigs are optional since Sinead O’Connor.

I hear through the family grapevine that my Aunt Kathy Jo who is the same age as I am woke up to find her beautiful blonde hair in bed with her one morning. It stayed there while she went to breakfast which is exactly what happened to her mother,, my Grandmother. I suspect she hit menopause and that was the triggering event.

I am still peri-menopause I think–I have had a hysterectomy so I don’t know. However, I haven’t had any of the typical symptoms until just recently, maybe. The last few days I have had what might be hot flashes and Iexperienced night sweats two nights in a row. Maybe I’m finally THERE. At 55 it’s about time.

Imagine, I could have conceived a child up to this point or that’s what they told me three years ago when they did a hormone study–USE BIRTH CONTROL. I think a hysterctomy that removes the cervix is a pretty good form of birth control don’t you?

My Grandmother and all of her brothers and sisters had Areata Universalis. It was pretty bizaare. They also had a mottling loss of skin pigmentation which I have but not nearly to that degree. I AM very fair skinned. It may have been this condition: Vitiligo.

All that to say I have a new ‘do. I like it.

If I go bald I’m getting a tattoo on my scalp. I’d love to get it tattooed all over with fake curls in multi-colors but that’s out of my budget. Dunno what yet. Maybe “Naturally Bald and Proud of It“

B

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Family Ties

A family is a unit composed not only of children but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold.

Ogden Nash (1902 – 1971)

What happened to my WYSIWYG editor? I have this strange coding menu at the top of the text entry box. This is rather intimidating. Oh well, I’ll soldier on.

The time spent with my kids this weekend was pleasant. My Grnadson is growing like a weed and is nearly up to my shoulder. He is only seven. Handsome young man too. I’m not prejudiced or anything.

The baby is cute as a button. She’s at that age when babies are really becoming interesting. My daughter and I got down on the floor with her and put toys just out of reach so she would get up on her hands and knees and try to crawl to get them. She has the commando crawl down pretty good so daughter is working with her on a carpet that is rough and not so much fun to do the commando thing.

She is going to be a chatter box. Her little mouth was going the whole time, making clicking noises with her tongue and little jabber babblings. When son-in-law came in the room she squealed with delight and I would almost swear she said Daddeee but I’d have to hear it again to be absolutely certain.

I made a pork roast with potatoes and carrots Friday in son’s crockpot. It turned out really good. Son has a really nice crockpot. He needs a good set of pans and I will teach him how to cook. I think I will give him my big cast iron skillet if he wants it.

Nephew gave me a book by Chuck Palaniuk to read “Survivor“. It’s his favorite novel. I think I might have read this before but if I did it’s worth giving it a second read. I really enjoyed “Fight Club.” Nephew is such an anti-intellectual intellectual. An anarchist, I believe.

I want so much for him to educate that fine mind of his but he was not raised to value a formal education. The company he works for would pay for his tuition and I keep telling he could get his basic general credits out of the way at their expense but he doesn’t want to take basic general classes. He wants to march into Philosophy 303 and start arguing iwth the Professor. ARGH!

Oh well, he is who he is and I love him dearly. He can be like me and go to college in his 30s and appreciate it all the better for having waited until then.

B

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Follow the Yellow Brick Road

We’re off to see the Wizard, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
You’ll find he is a whiz of a Wiz! If ever a Wiz! there was.
If ever oh ever a Wiz! there was The Wizard of Oz is one because,
Because, because, because, because, because.

Lyrics by EH Harburg, music by Harold Arlen “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”

I’m off to see my Grandchildren tonight. My nephew will pick me up sometime between now (9:15) and Midnight and take me to Edgerton. He works odd hours and doesn’t get off work until 8:00 PM. It works out good for me because then I can sort of stretch that rule the building management has about not leaving pets alone for more than 24 hours out a little.

I don’t like to leave Patches alone for much longer than 24 hours but she does fine for 36. She’s more than happy to see me when I get home though. I got the paperwork necessary to get permission to have a dog in this building but I don’t have a clue what happened to it. They have to be designated as a companion dog. <heheh> Patches could use a companion.

Not so sure about me. Dogs are a lot of work but there are all kinds of guys in this building who would like to walk my dog if I get one. <shrug> I would feel safer if I had a dog but…

I would love a Boston Terrier or a Boxer. Better yet, I would like a mutt mix of either of those. I’m not all that big on pure bred dogs. The inbreeding is nasty. I saw a cute little rat terrier/jack russel mix up for adoption by its owners that I would be interested in but they say they don’t know how she would be with cats. If she hasn’t found a home by mid week next week I will call them. It would be worth a try to see if she is a chaser.

Oh goodie, my daughter just called and she is going to send a note to school with my Grandson so that I can pick him up rather than having him go to daycare. Fantastico! G and I get along well unless he’s feeling frisky and oppositional. He’s a really smart little boy and he likes to pit that smart little brain against Grammy’s brain. Grammy isn’t used to thinking on her feet against smart little boys.

He also likes to tell “stories.” Last night on the phone he told me he had skipped all the way up to 5th grade. Not too long ago he told me he thought he had flunked kindergarten. He had me convinced he believed that. That’s the third time he has caught me with his “stories.” From now on I don’t believe a word he says until I check it with his parents. <heh>

Update on the adoption process. The mother has decided to fight the state’s decision to terminate her parental rights. It may be three or more years before the baby is released for adoption and the mother could prevail. I am afraid for my daughter. This could get really messy. I am very proud of her for hanging in there though.
B

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It’s Driving Him Buggy

I’m bringing home my baby bumble bee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me
I’m bringing home my baby bumble bee -
OUCH!! It stung me!!

Author Unknown
I called over to my Daughter’s house last night to ask her about a present I want to get the baby and as usual, Daughter and Son-in-law were both too busy to talk to me but my Gr-Son answered the phone and was in a talkative mood. This was unusual in two respects. First that he answered the phone at 10 minutes to 8 (his bedtime has been 7:00 for eons) and second that he would want to chatter at me for fifteen minutes.

My daughter and her husband never seem to sit still. I don’t care when I call, they never have time to talk. It really irks me sometimes. Gr-son usually doesn’t have time to talk either but he’s 7 and a little boy. I could scarcely get my own kids to tell me what their day at school was like when they were kids.

I got an answer about the baby question from him because it was about a toy that his Uncle and I had given him when he was a wee baby. If they still had it (which is doubtful because even though Daughter’s house is large, there is not a lot of storage space) then cool, if not, then I want to get one for Baby. as a combo Christmas/welcome to the family gift and give it to her now.

She doesn’t have any toys to play with. This is one of those learning thingamajiggies that lights up and makes all kinds of cool noises when you push the buttons in the right sequence. Good until about age 5 or so. Or if you are an adult you can play with it for hours on end and still never get over being fascinated by the thing. <heh>

Then I asked gr-son how he was getting along with the other kids and he told me all his woes about having three little siblings. Baby is nice but those other two kids. Not so nice.

I asked him how he liked being the big boy in the house for a change and that kind of put a new spin on the subject. His response was priceless. “oh yeeeaah, I AM the big boy in the house now aren’t I.” Now I suppose he will get all bossy over those other kids with the big boy attitude. Grammy’s fault.

Friday when I was there he found a big old common Garden Spider when we were out walking and coaxed it onto souvenir Mallards’ baseball bat he was carrying. It was HUGE! The spider, not the bat. The bat was miniature He wanted to take it home to show his Daddy. The spider, not the bat.

Of course he had to stop off at the pool to show a bunch of big boys waiting for their turn at the diving board his prize. They thought he was pretty brave carrying around a spider that big! That puffed up a 7 year old boy’s ego.

We were within hollerin’ distance when the spider made his move. He turned around and started scuttling up the bat towards Gr-son at a pretty good click. Gr-son freaked and threw the bat into the park at least fifteen feet. I thought I was going to bust something from belly laughing so hard.

“It’s NOT funny Grammy! He was coming after me. What if he bited me and he was poisonis?”

I went and retrieved the bat and then explained that there were only two spiders that were “poisonis” in Wisconsin and that wasn’t one of them. We’d look up the “poisonis” ones in the encyclopedia later on.

That kid cracks me up. He wants to be an entymologist (yes he can say that word) when he grows up but he really needs to learn not to throw his specimens away when they make aggressive moves towards him or have too many legs (centipedes). Squeamishness is not allowed in the entymologist biz. <heh>

He’s liked bugs ever since he was an itty bitty little thing though. I used to have these T-shirts I bought especially to wear when I went to see him because they were colorful and had fun things on them. One was of a Teddy bear with bees buzzing around its head. Ones of his first words was to point at the bees on that shirt and say “bee bug” when he was around 9 to 10 months old or so.

B

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I’m Going To Be A Grammy Again!

I called my grandson this past weekend and my daughter answered.  She was really excited and said she had just gotten her baby, her little girl.  I thought she meant her kitten.

They lost three cats all at once and are in the process of replacing them.  She is getting a Siamese and my son-in-law is getting some kind of tailless something or other.  They tried out a Bengal but it didn’t get along with their two Greyhounds and had to go back to the breeder.

But anyway back to my story…  She said “no, Mom!  My little girl.  They placed a baby with us and her brother and sister.  Brother has seen her.  I’m really busy, call Brother, he’ll tell you what’s going on.”

So then I spoke to my grandson who dutifully spent a few minutes telling me he loved me and yes he got the card and Mama read the story to him and he liked it.  Would I write him some more?

Then he said very politely, “Grammy?  Can I please say goodbye now?  I am playing with my new foster brother.”  He cracks me up!

Sooo…  I finally got hold of Son today and yes indeedy Daughter who has been wanting to adopt forever and a day has had a baby and her two siblings placed with her.  Son says baby is around 6-7 months old, the little boy is about 18 months old, and the other little girl is 3-4 years old.

Son didn’t know if it was just the baby or if all three children are up for adoption.  I could be going from one to three grandbabies!  What fun!
Daughter has been doing foster care ever since grandson was a baby.  I have a 20 (I think) year old foster granddaughter who was with them for 4 years and several other short term placements.

I’m going to Edgerton to meet the new grands this weekend.  I can’t wait!

B

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