Mommin' It Up!

February 16, 2015February 15, 2015

A Life Well-Loved

This is my paternal grandmother, Della Victoria Higgins Brads. She passed away last Thursday at the age of 95. It wasn’t a surprise, I mean, she was 95. And, she had been in pretty ill health since late summer. Not wanting her to suffer, I had been anxious that, after having lived a long life full of love, she not suffer anymore but be in perfect, painless peace in heaven with Jesus (not to mention my Grandpa whom she was married to for 71 years).

And so, I thought I was prepared for a world without my Grandma Brads. And perhaps in my head, I was. But when I got the news Wednesday afternoon that she had taken a serious turn for the worse and that hospice was coming in, I discovered that my heart was not quite so prepared. I had a sitter at the house while I was working and so I had the luxury of crying by myself in my office for awhile. Lots of tears from a grown woman who loved her Grandma still with the heart of a little girl.

Grandma passed away almost exactly 24 hours later, and after I got the call, I had another good cry. I was still crying when the big kids got home from school and I told them. They were sad, they loved her too, but they took it well because I had prepared them for it over the last few weeks and days. I was relieved that they were able to move on to after-school activities pretty quickly; I wasn’t sure I would be able to be a comfort to them when I was still so sad.

I learned a lot from my Grandma Brads growing up and it’s nearly all from her example, from the way she lived her life. I don’t want to make it sound like she was perfect, but she was womderful. She was just a great lady. She was good at loving others, she was good at serving others with joy, and she was good at making me feel special and loved. Some of my favorite childhood memories involve sitting in between Grandma and Grandpa on the front seat of their car, of accompanying Grandma to the local IGA for groceries, of sitting down to her most wonderful mashed potatoes or mac & cheese. This was a woman who displayed love by cooking tasty things for her family. She literally lived to serve.

One thing I loved about my Grandma was that she was ALWAYS delighted to see me – when I was a child, when I was a teen, a young adult, a newlywed, a new mom – she loved me well in every stage. I knew if I was going to be in the area and I called and asked if I could come by she would be overjoyed. She’d somehow manage to have a smorgasbord assembled even if she’d only had 20 minutes notice – she definitely had that hostess gift! And guess what else I got at Grandma’s house besides good food? It’s also where I got my love of MOUNTAIN DEW. Grandma nearly always had it out in the laundry room with all the soda. (It should be noted that my Grandpa gave me my love of Dairy Queen Dilly bars and butterscotch dipped cones. I am really glad those two had the staples covered!)

Grandma Baby Joshua 2 — Grandma with newborn Joshua

My Grandma loved children and she babysat in her home for approximately a million years, retiring when she was 75. In the small town where she lives, you can’t walk down the sidewalk without tripping over someone who was fortunate enough to be in her care. I’ve absolutely LOVED watching her delight in my children, and watching them delight in her. Jonah was an especially big fan – here he is with her on her 95th birthday. She also made each of my babies a special blanket which I will keep FOREVER.

Something else that I love about my Grandma is that she liked to look GOOD. I am very proud that I got my rampant vanity from her. I mean, what better source, right? Grandma had her hair set every week by the same stylist and though she went gray approximately 4 or 5 decades ago, I NEVER saw her with gray hair until this past couple months when she was too ill to get it dyed. And as you can see from the first picture in this post, she was very beautiful! When you got it, you got it! She always dressed so nicely and acessorized like a pro. And, she was religious about her skin care. 🙂

Grandma had a sharp wit that left us all laughing on many occasions…she was a preacher’s wife but she could still let loose with a zinger. Some of my cousins have shared some over the past few days that made me chuckle. My cousin Mackenzie, when she brought her fiance home to meet Grandma, was met with “He’s better looking than I thought he’d be!” and my cousin Rachel, headed out back for a smoke, got a “Rachel, are you in THAT big of a hurry to get to heaven before the rest of us?”

This was classic Grandma. She made us laugh and she loved to laugh. I loved the sound of her laugh…I wish I could hear it one more time.

The biggest, most important, most memorable thing about my Grandma was that she LOVED Jesus. She wasn’t shy about her love for her Savior and she wasn’t shy about letting you know that you might wanna get friendly with him, too. Grandma was concerned that everyone she met knew Jesus, from her hairdresser to the waiter or waitress that served her at a restaurant. And really, that’s the most important way that I can be like her. Her kids bought her a big box of tracts with a salvation message on them for her 95th birthday, to be distributed in her name, because at 95 she wasn’t going to be out and about “witnessing” but she still wanted to help others learn about Jesus. At the time I kind of giggled about those tracts. I mean, it’s kind of an antiquated method of sharing your faith. But now I’ve come to realize that it was such a sweet gift, a gift that spoke to the desire of Grandma’s heart – that everyone should know Jesus’ love, forgiveness, peace, and salvation.

May that be the desire of my heart as well.

Grandma, thank you for being a loving, caring, encouraging example my whole life. Thank you for making me feel like a special person, and for loving me so well. Thank you for teaching me that there can be great joy in meeting the needs of your family, and that the most important thing I can do in life is follow the Lord.

Oh, and as my cousin Mackenzie reminded me, thanks for teaching us to moisturize.

Hug Grandpa for me and have a dipped cone at heaven’s DQ together.

I’ll see you again soon. I love you.

February 12, 2015

All Over the Map.

First of all, I’ve got to say that there is so much more important stuff going on in the world and even in our lives that I feel ridiculous grumbling about my upcoming surgery… but I am about to do it anyway.

When I first found out I needed a hysterectomy, I was all “let’s do this thing.”

The closer I get to the actual surgery, though, the more nervous I get. I wish I had been able to have it done in January like I thought, and hadn’t had three months to obsess about it. Anyway, I am getting very anxious about a couple things.

1. We were done having kids. Like 99.2 percent sure we were done. Our kids are 10 and 6, our family is in the sweet spot of child rearing, we were good to go. Except now that it’s completely certain that we’re not having any more kids, Andy and I are both getting a little sad about it. Not that we would probably have another even if I decided to keep my uterus intact, but it feels weird that we are completely closing that door. I guess it’s a want-what-you-can’t-have thing. Or at least a want-because-you-can’t-have thing. I don’t know, but it’s weird.

2. I am getting super nervous about surgical menopause. I don’t really understand what’s going to happen when I wake up and my body has no estrogen. I don’t know if it’s going to hit me like a ton of bricks, or if my body will hang on to whatever is in there for a while and it’ll be more gradual. I don’t even know what “it” is. This is something that I would normally obsess about and research the hell out of, but to be honest I haven’t had time to delve into an internet rabbit hole. I’ve read some stuff here and there, but not enough. I haven’t made a single spreadsheet. And I really don’t anticipate having the time to do any of that between now and the end of March. So I guess I’ll just show up at the hospital and do what they tell me to do. Is that what normal, non-obsessive compulsive people do? I don’t really know.

Conversely, though, yesterday I had such bad cramps I wanted someone to yank my uterus out stat. That, my friends, is something I will not miss.

February 10, 2015

My Outer Monologue and My Daughter’s Confidence

There’s been a lot of talk about body image issues on the old internetz recently and how depictions of “beauty” in the media affect our girls – as there should be. There’s also been some rather telling studies and efforts to show that how we as women talk about our bodies in front of our girls affects their self-image. It’s true, mamas. An “I look terrible.” or “I feel so fat.” muttered as we gaze in the mirror can have lasting negative effects on how our girls feel about themselves when they take their turns in front of the looking glass.

But there’s something that I struggle with even more than that, and I’ve not heard it mentioned a lot. You see Sophie’s not likely to hear me say I look ugly or fat or anything like that, because I don’t think I look ugly or fat. Elle McPherson I will never be, but I am generally satisfied with the package God put me in physically. Admittedly I LOVE MAKEUP. It makes me feel fabulous. But I don’t think that a lack of it makes me ugly.

No, what I struggle with is talking about my intelligence and general functionality. Sophie may not hear me say “I’m so fat” but she is fairly likely to hear me say “I’m so stupid.” or “I’m such a dummy.” or “I always do the wrong thing.”

I know I’m not stupid. But I do stupid things. I am forgetful. I leave things off the grocery list and cause myself major inconveniences and wastes of time. I am clumsy, and often hurt myself with silly accidents like walking into a door frame or smacking myself in the head with a cabinet door (try not to laugh.)

For some reason, when I do these things – forget something important, make a wrong turn, cause myself to have to do something over and waste precious time, I am super, super hard on myself. I am almost incapable of giving myself a break. Grace, easily extended to others, is stingily held back when I need to extend it to myself.

I am stupid. I am dumb. I am klutz. I am useless. I am the worst mom ever. I can’t do anything right.

This is what my daughter is more likely to hear me say.

It’s just as wrong as “I am ugly.”

And I’ve got to stop it. Because it’s not true. I am not dumb, I am not stupid, I am not useless. I am a normal person who does a lot of things well and yet is perfectly imperfect. I wouldn’t even say I am a perfectionist, far from it – but when it comes to my flaws, I sweat the small stuff like a Sumo wrestler in a sauna.

And the thing is, you guys, I’ve got a daughter who thinks she can do anything. She is amazing and she believes that she is amazing – just the way God made her – and I don’t want that to change. Honestly, it scares the crap out of me that what I say about myself can change that for her.

So from this day forward, I vow to control my harsh tongue when it comes to my shortcomings. There’s being self-aware and realistic about your abilities and then there’s self-flagellating. May I know the difference and only speak those things that are true, honest, lovely, just, pure, and of good report when it comes to me, myself, and I. May I embrace who I am as a child of God and delight in the gifts He has given me instead of dwelling on my weaknesses. May I make this my habit, my way of life. so that Sophie, my sweet, spunky, smart, funny, capable girl, can grow up learning to do the same.