From what I understand, although my grandma is in a coma, she can squeeze people’s hands. One of my cousins sent me a picture of Grandma holding her hand, and I think it’s quite possibly the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen.

I’m so incredibly sad that her life is drawing to an end. What an amazing woman… strong, determined, witty, and above all, loving and kind to others. She’s never lost her sense of humor. For example, the last time I recently saw her, one of my aunts said jokingly to Grandma, “Hey Mom! Why don’t you get up on the table and dance and we’ll put some dollar bills in your skivvies!” My grandmother was so frail and tiny, and needed help walking, standing, and even eating. But without missing a beat, face completely deadpan, she looked at my aunt and said in her telltale no-nonsense voice, “Well… It’s gonna take me a while to get up there.”

My grandma’s always been quite witty with an awesome, dry sense of humor. She used to always crack me up the way she would say things or tell a joke… always with a straight face, always as if she was serious, yet never attempting to be funny or make someone laugh. She was a total natural.

Because I was unable to make the long trip to see her and say goodbye, I wrote her a letter. Since my mom and dad were able to make the trip, I emailed it to Dad and he read it to her. I’m thankful that I was able to say my final farewell to her, to tell her how much I love her and how much she’s meant to me over the years. I know death is a part of life, and I know it’s to be expected that our grandparents will pass on. But why is it still so damn hard to lose them?

I will write more at a later time. I’m still processing everything that’s happened, and it’s not easy. Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers as we go through this painful time. She is dearly loved and will be greatly missed. It’s so hard and painful to lose someone you love.

I still can’t believe I’m the mother of a three year old!

My little guy when he was just seven months old… my how time flies. Well, it doesn’t exactly fly in the moment, but it sure seems like it did in retrospect. I can’t believe Nathan is getting so big now and that he is now done with the toddler years and has morphed into this preschooler. PRESCHOOLER. I love this kid.

Sitting outside together, enjoying some beautiful weather. And oh yeah. Nathan loves having his picture taken. Every time I break out the camera, he grins and says, “Say cheeeeeeeeeese!” And of course he likes to scroll through all the pictures after I’ve taken them, exclaiming “There’s Mommy! There’s Nathan!” and even occasionally kissing or hugging the screen. I love this kid.

I can’t believe my little boy has grown so much… sometimes it seems like such a long, long time ago that he was a little baby. Other times it seems like just yesterday. I wonder how it will feel in ten years. Or twenty. Or thirty. I know I’m really going to miss him being little and all the sweet little things that come with it, especially the things like how a hug can make the world ok, how kisses have the magical ability to instantly heal absolutely anything, and especially the way he wraps his arms around my neck and tells me he loves me “so vewy much.” He’s at a tough age where he is testing every single one of his boundaries and purposefully not minding me just to see what I will do. But the sweet times totally make up for the frustrating ones.

I’m really going to miss these times when he’s all grown up. Even the hard parts. Because when he’s all grown up, I won’t be able to tickle his feet anymore or scoop him up in a giant bear hug and twirl around the room with him… and all the other sweet little things that come with this age. The good and the bad, it’s all part of it.  So every time he throws a temper tantrum or tries to assert his independence, I just tell myself that one day, I will look back at these days with fondness…

And oh. Did I mention I HATE coughing? I’m coughing so much that there’s no way I can go work out. I’m afraid the heavy breathing would cause me to cough my way right out of the building. I feel completely fine other than this cough and accompanying mild congestion. I’m thankful for the small things because having a cough on top of other cold symptoms is just miserable. My cough is drier-sounding than Nathan’s and I’m coughing a LOT more than he is. His is deeper and rattling, but his cough is more infrequent. I’ve been taking honey, about a 1/2 a tablespoon at a time, to help with the irritating tickle in my throat. It seems to work!

Hopefully this won’t last long, and Nathan and I will be back to our old selves in a few days. I worry about him, though, because he’s just a little guy. Anytime he gets congestion in his chest, I worry. Children tend to develop pneumonia really easily, but fortunately, we haven’t had to deal with that yet. Hopefully, we will never have to.

I’m just glad the sickness held off until now… it’s better than being sick during the Holiday season!

So today, I walked past him as he was playing in his room. I heard him say, “Time to clean up!” and as I peeked my head through the door, I saw him picking up his Hot Wheels, one in each hand, and transporting them to their proper place into the basket on the toy shelf. He did this multiple times until all 50+ Hot Wheels were picked up off the floor.

I could not be more proud. I know plenty of adults who are too lazy to clean up after themselves, so seeing my two-year-old do it without any prompting makes me feel like I’m doing something right. I tell him all the time how important it is to clean up after himself because if he doesn’t do it, then that means someone else has to, and that’s not right.

For instance, I used to be a waitress when I was 16 years old. And out of all the different people that I served, guess who I hated waiting on the most? FAMILIES WITH KIDS. I especially hated, HATED waiting on the families with small children. Why, you ask? Well, because the majority of all the parents that came in apparently thought it was perfectly fine and “normal” for their kids to fling food all over the table and floor, spill drinks, be disruptive, and make the most God-awful messes I’ve ever seen. And the kicker? The reason why I hated serving them so much, aside from the irritation of dealing with a child who has no discipline?

SHITTY TIPPERS.

I tell you, parents with messy kids tended to leave the saddest tips I’d ever seen. You see, servers don’t get paid crap. At the time (over a decade ago), the hourly rate was $2.13 an hour, and to this day, it still hasn’t gone up to minimum wage. That’s because servers are expected to make up the difference with tips. So here I am, busting my ass cleaning up after these bratty little booger-crusted hellions and for next to nothing. No matter how great of a server I was… never letting their drinks empty, bringing their orders out in a timely manner, etc… they still only left a dollar or two. Even if that tip was 10-20% of their bill, when they allow their child(ren) to leave such a horrendous mess, they should tip more because the server now has to go above and beyond to take care of something the parents apparently didn’t have the capacity to take care of themselves. And the more time I had to spend cleaning up after a table, the less turnover I had, the less tables I could wait on, and the less money I could make.

It was really such a welcome relief when the few families with well-behaved, respectful kids came in. That’s probably why whenever we go out to eat, our server inevitably comments on how well-behaved Nathan is.

Here’s the deal. People who let their kids make these disgusting messes pretty much look like complete Parenting Failures to all who observe them. Typically speaking, the messy kids are also the ones throwing tantrums, screaming, standing up in their seats, flinging food across the room, climbing up on top the tables, being disruptive and disturbing the other patrons, etc etc etc etc. Lazy parenting at it’s best, folks. So what gives me the right to say that?  Well, my two-year-old would LOVE to do those things. I’ve never, NEVER allowed him to drop his food on the floor, take food off his plate or play with it, stand up in his seat, climb on the table, or any of that. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely tries. But I am the PARENT. It’s my job to prepare him for the next stage in life, and letting him do all those things teaches him nothing but how to be self-absorbed, entitled, and bratty. My child will not be allowed to be a brat. I know he is capable of better, therefore I expect more of him. I teach him what I expect of him when we’re at the table. And when he doesn’t comply, there are consequences (like putting him in time out, for example. And there have been many, many times I’ve had to get up from the table, take him outside, and put him in time out for not minding me at the table.)

Time and time again, I see parents “check out” while their kid runs amok at restaurants.

There is no excuse. None. Put on your big girl (or boy) panties and BE A PARENT. Teach your child the right way to behave. It’s not the kids’ fault that their parents suck, and believe me they will pay for your failures as they grow into adults, and that’s not fair to the child.  They usually end up becoming bratty, self-absorbed and entitled adults who won’t be able to get far in life.  What a shame.

I can’t stand to see bad parenting because it’s so selfish on the parents’ part and is nothing but detrimental to the child. Your child deserves better. Your child deserves a parent who is going to at least TRY mold them into becoming a responsible adult. I have friends whom I am embarrassed to go eat with because their own children, who are older than my son, are hellions at the table. When we leave the restaurant, my son’s area is clean. There is no food on the floor, no spilled drinks (I understand it’s inevitable, but some kids spill their drink nearly every single time they eat) and no disruptions such as standing up in his chair or getting up and running around the table.

The world doesn’t revolve around a single one of us. We have to be respectful of others, and we have to understand how our actions affect those around us. It’s our job as parents to teach our children those same principals. Anything less is letting your child down and inadequately preparing him/her for life. That’s not fair to the child.

PRESCHOOLER.

And he doesn’t toddle anymore. He doesn’t even walk. He RUNS. EVERYWHERE. And let me tell you, this kid is fast. He’s growing more and more into a little boy. A big kid.

I’m not ready for this.

See, we often get those catalogs in the mail that are filled with pictures of kids’ toys. One arrived in the mail the other day. I like to flip through them and see what’s out there. I was thumbing through the toddler section and became slightly dismayed to see that Nathan wouldn’t be interested in most of those toys. I turned the page and GOLDMINE! It was filled with all kinds of toys Nathan would find intriguing. And then I looked up at the top of the page and saw the glaring words “PRESCHOOLERS AGES 3-4.”

Preschooler.

The word tastes funny in my mouth. It seems so… old… somehow. So grown-up and yet not. A contradiction. I have a preschooler and yet he’s still just a baby. It took me a while to get used to calling Nathan a toddler rather than an infant. And just when I became accustomed to that, he morphed into a preschooler right in front of me.

Watching your kid grow is a funny thing. I find myself becoming emotional over things like the thought of getting his first hair cut (It took him over two years to grow his hair; he was completely bald up until a few months ago. And now he has a mop on his head, and cutting it will be a bittersweet moment indeed.) and every time he goes up a size in shoes. There are so many firsts, so many changes, and it all happens so quickly. I just want to press a pause button and breathe him in before he grows any more…

It’s been a long time since I’ve really, REEEEEAAAAAALLY wanted something, and this I WANT!!