That’s right. There it is. In all it’s wiry, white, “look at me ruining your youth” glory. The first sign that I am well on my way to old lady-dom. Look at it. The smug bastard.

Last night while having dinner with my grandpa, aunts and cousins, my aunt said, “I didn’t want to say this, but I saw a white hair on you earlier.”
“NO! It must’ve been my cousin’s! She was pulling hers out. It must’ve landed on me.” I wish I was kidding. I wish I’d sounded less, I don’t know, neurotic and denial-ridden.
“Yeah…maybe that was it. Let me look.” No more than 10-15 seconds later did I hear, “HERE IT IS!” and that thing up there was thrust in my face.

I think I spent the following 7 minutes acting like spoiled, vain brat, hollering something along the lines of, “NO! NO! I’m only 27! This isn’t possible!” I’m pretty sure I whacked my husband a couple of times between trips back and forth to the hall mirror, while proclaiming that it was all his fault.

And then my aunt said, “Well, I didn’t want to freak you out…but there are two.”
To which I screeched incomprehensibly responded, “OH, SHUT UP!”

Tumbling ass-out, head over heels into aging gracefully.

Go check out Freely Educate to enter a giveaway for a Friendly Chemistry set! While I understand that Ben’s not entirely ready for it yet, I still can’t help but drool a little…and maybe want to try it out myself.

It’s become increasingly clear that The Boy is losing his vocabulary. To every question, statement, BREATH, I receive the same response. “No.” Occasionally it’s a very flat, matter-of-fact, “No.” Other times, it’s a squeel and a cry, “Noooo-waaaaaah!” Others, a screaming, full-out tantrum, throwing himself on the floor and rolling like an crocodile, “NOOOOOOOO-UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” While he may only use one word, the sentiment is made clear in his tone.

Our daily morning conversation goes something like this:
“Good morning, Boy!”
“No.”
“How did you sleep?”
“No.”
“May I have a kiss?”
“Nooooo-wah!”
“Are you ready to get up?”
“Nooooooooooooo-wah!”
“What would you like for breakfast?”
“NOOOOOOOO-UHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“How about eggs?”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“How about blueberry waffles and strawberries?”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO-UHHHHHHHHHH!…..Saying yes.”

Yes, my son says, “Saying yes.” Lest we confuse his resounding NOOOOO-UHHHHH and subsequent crocodile roll and leg flailing with, I don’t know, a non-affirmative answer. How ridiculous would that be?

My beautiful grandma passed one week ago, today, at 11:22pm. My husband and I were the only ones in the room. We had sent everyone else to bed. I felt incredibly guilty about that and still do, but that’s for another time. I also feel so incredibly lucky and blessed to have been there. She awoke and smiled. I said, “I love you, grandma. There’s that beautiful smile” and was gone. She was 77 years old.

My grandma and grandpa met when he was in the army. His story is that she chased him all over tarnation. Every time he told this story, she would just shake her head at him. Grandma was not the chasing type. I have a feeling it was the other way around. That picture over there was a picture of her when she was 18. They were married 3 years prior and grandpa carried that picture with him all over while he was in the war. He said, “I’d pull that picture out of my wallet and say, ‘Look what’s waiting for me at home.’ No one ever believed me. She was so beautiful.” Now, my grandpa is no slouch, himself, but I still joke that he was pretty lucky to have her. They were married for 62 years.

My grandma had 5 kids of her own, in addition to raising 5 siblings. I’ve met more relatives in the past week than I knew I even had. I reconnected with my very, very estranged half-brother who, much to my and my family’s shock, brought his children (15 and 11) and wife to the memorial to meet us. My dad got to meet his grandchildren for the first time. It was…well…uncomfortable, but I know my grandma was proud of him and ridiculously happy to see everyone reunited. It’s all she ever wanted for us, to enjoy the family she’d created and, even though it was only for a few minutes, we did just that.

My family has amazed me over the past week. I expected an implosion. I should have known better than to think so little of them. We’ve pulled together in the way that grandma wanted us to before the cancer struck. I regret not doing so then. I want to make sure we make up for it now.

My beautiful grandma passed away, at home, on March 8th, 11:22 pm. She was married 62 years, had 5 beautiful children, 7 grandchildren, 8 great-grandchildren and too many friends to count. At 77 years old she was still as beautiful as that photograph at 18.

We love you, grandma, with all our hearts and we will miss you so, so much. Thank you for being the rock for our family and for being my grandma. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

At the sheer threat of visiting my in-laws on Wednesday, I had a panic attack. Since then, I’ve been in a state of complete disarray. I’ve been crying uncontrollably. I’ve been tired. I’ve been terrified. Long story short, I’ve been a raging mess.

I did the unthinkable this morning, called my boss and puked my issues all over her while asking for a month off. I love my job with a passion (I do breastfeeding peer counseling for WIC), but I’ve begun letting it go more and more. It’s not fair for the clients and it’s not fair for the job. I promised I would return but, in this current state, I can’t see much past my nose, nevertheless a month from now.

My dad called a couple of hours ago, my grandma’s cancer has spread to her kidneys. She can no longer walk. The hospice care folks are coming by today to get her settled. They don’t expect she has very long.

I’m not scared for my grandma. She’s lived a very religious life that always had “the here-after” as the ultimate goal. I am, however, scared for the family after she passes. She’s has been the glue that holds things together for so long, I’m sure everything will fall apart.

We’re to go visit her today. The thought of doing so is really, really frightening. Verge of another panic attack frightening. I have no choice but to go. I can’t miss seeing my grandma just because of my crap, I’m just praying my crap won’t make me more harmful than helpful.