7 Quick Takes Friday #6: Special Edition in Memory of my Grandmother

I haven’t participated in 7 Quick Takes Friday in months, but I am back with a special edition in memory of my grandmother (fondly called “gramma”).  She died on January 27th.  Her funeral was this past Monday.  I wanted to write something in her honor and thought this would be a good way to do it.

1

My gramma’s accomplishments were of the ordinary, unremarkable variety.  She graduated from high school–her parents had little formal education and could read but not write.  She worked for several years as a secretary for the Detroit Board of Education (mostly at the Children’s Museum, also at a high school).  She married a man who had gone to seminary for a year, but decided the priesthood was not for him, who had trained as a gunner in the Naval Air Corps, but saw the end of World War II before he had a chance to serve overseas, and who eventually found his place in a desk job at a magnet factory in a small town in Michigan.  For most of her adult life, my gramma didn’t work outside the home.  She cooked and baked.  She packed lunches.  She  went grocery shopping.  She washed dishes and dried them and put them away.  She did laundry and hung bedsheets to dry on the clothesline.  She sewed clothes and made quilts.  She changed diapers and wiped noses.  She potty-trained six kids.  She taught catechism classes and counted offering money.  She knitted baby hats to give to the hospital.  She went to christenings, First Communions, weddings, graduations, and funerals for family near and far.  She proudly displayed pictures of her six children (all college graduates), thirteen grandchildren (I am the oldest), and one great-grandchild (my son).  Her life was not glamorous, but it was full of love.  The world would be a better place if there were more people in it like my gramma.

2

My gramma was mostly “with it” until right near the end of her life.  She had both detailed memories of the past and clear knowledge of who people were and what they were doing in the present.  The last time I talked with her, on the phone, I made sure to tell her I loved her and said good-bye.  I didn’t get to do that with my grandfather (her husband), who died three years ago, because of the way he slid into dementia; he didn’t know who I was.  My gramma ended the conversation saying that she’d talk with me again later and I agreed, even though I knew that it probably wouldn’t happen.  In that last conversation, she mentioned something about motorcycles, so I asked her if she had ever ridden one and she said no.  I asked her what the craziest thing she had ever done was and she said she couldn’t remember.  I jokingly told her, “That’s okay, everyone is allowed to have their secrets.”  She insisted that she didn’t have any secrets.

3

My maternal grandparents were both Catholic.  They attended the same Catholic school for their elementary years; my grandfather stayed there through high school, but my grandmother went to a public high school because money was tight for her family.  Both of my grandparents were active in their local parish and raised their children to be good Catholics (though they didn’t send their kids to Catholic schools because there weren’t any in their small town; there wasn’t even a Catholic church when they first moved there–my grandparents helped build the church).  When I was still a toddler, my mother left the Catholic Church and joined a Lutheran church.  I was raised as a Lutheran.  I had a solid Christian upbringing–grace before dinner, prayers before bed, attending church every week, serving as an acolyte, my mom volunteering with Sunday School and vacation Bible school, participating in my church’s youth group, even attending a Lutheran school for a short time in my early elementary years.  My grandparents were not happy with my mom’s decision to leave the Catholic Church, however.  From what I’ve heard, they refused to attend my brothers’ baptisms (I don’t remember–I was pretty young).  My gramma sewed First Communion dresses for my cousins, but not for me (my mom sewed my dress).  There were many occasions where I attended Mass with them as a child and when I was older.  I remember the feeling of being excluded when I (and my mom and my brothers, if they were there) stayed in the pew while everyone else went up for Communion.  In high school, I started getting upset with the prayer that people said before Communion.  “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.”  I felt angry that they said that, then went up for Communion, but no matter what I said, they wouldn’t consider me worthy to take Communion with them because I wasn’t Catholic.  (This was a difference from the Lutheran church I grew up in, where I remember the pastor welcoming “all those who believe and are baptized” to share Communion.)  At my wedding, in a Lutheran church, we didn’t have Communion because I didn’t think my grandparents would share it with us.  I won’t tell the whole story of my conversion to Catholicism here, but it was partly motivated by my desire to be able to take Communion at my gramma’s funeral.  And I did.

4

Years ago, when my mom learned that I was becoming Catholic, she gave me the rosary that she had received as a gift for her First Communion.  I kept it, but I never prayed with it.  I grew up in a Protestant church; praying to saints and Mary is still kind of weird to me.  At some point, I decided that I would pray the rosary when my gramma died.  My grampa died first, so I thought I would do it then, but it didn’t happen.  My then-two-year-old son was tired and cranky when they started the rosary at the funeral home, so I took him out of the room.  I told myself that I would go to my grampa’s grave and say the rosary for him there, but I never did.  On Sunday night, at the same funeral home, I finally prayed the rosary for the first time, for my gramma, as I had thought I would do.  At some point, I will go to my grampa’s grave and say it for him too.

5

I did something else for the first time on Monday.  I touched a dead person.  Along with the other grandchildren present, I was a pallbearer at the funeral.  Before they closed the casket at the back of the church, the priest instructed us to each make a cross on her forehead with our thumbs.  We didn’t do that for my grampa–I would have remembered that.  I noticed that some people just did it in the air over her forehead.  I didn’t really want to touch her dead body, but I also didn’t want to wimp out at my gramma’s funeral, so I did it, very lightly.  I survived.

6

The experience of my gramma’s death has been similar to that of my grampa’s death three years ago–same funeral home, same church for the funeral, same cemetary, same banquet hall for lunch afterwards.  I was also a pallbearer for my grampa’s funeral.  As we were leaving the church at the end of his funeral, my gramma and I made eye contact.  I remember her sitting there in her wheelchair at the front of the church, watching the exit of the coffin that held her husband of fifty-eight years.  This time, as we left, I remembered that moment and looked at the spot where she had sat.  This time, she was not there.  She was the one in the coffin.  I cried.

7

A year and a half ago, I went to my gramma’s apartment with my new digital camcorder.  I set it up on a tripod and recorded her as I asked questions about her life.  Over two days, I recorded about an hour and a half.  After her death, it was a comfort to me to remember that I had those recordings.  On Tuesday, I watched them again.  It was wonderful to see her, to hear her voice again, and to have those stories and details preserved.  After I watched it, I thought of more questions I wish I had asked, but I am very glad that I have what I have.  I plan to make copies to give to my family.  I wish I had a video of my grampa when he was still alive and in his right mind.

I realize that this post is more about me than about my gramma, but it has been helpful to me to summarize some of the thoughts, feelings, and memories I have had since her death.  I love my gramma and I trust that now she and my grampa are happy together in heaven.

And now we wait

On Wednesday, we had our last homestudy meeting.  We talked about parenting–what’s rewarding about it, what’s challenging, our routines, how we deal with discipline, and what we can offer to an adopted child.  We finished all our homework and turned it in.  All of the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed, all the forms filled out and the documents submitted.  There is nothing more for us to do at the moment.  Don and I each have to make up one session of PRIDE training (mine is a week from tomorrow and Don’s is in March), but all that involves is showing up on the appropriate day at the right time and sitting through a three-hour class.  The social worker is going to write up our homestudy report and e-mail us a draft to review, but she said it might take a few months.  Once the homestudy report is done, it has to be approved.  Then our file will pass on to a different social worker who specializes in adoptions and we will start waiting to be matched with a child.

Advent/Christmas crafts

I’ve been very neglectful of my blog lately, but I’m not giving up.  I’ve been meaning to post some pictures of Advent and Christmas crafts, so here they are, finally.  (I know it’s a little late, but give me a break–the Christmas decorations just came down in our house today.)

Peter’s drawing of Santa Claus:

A reindeer craft that he made at school.  Even though his name was already on the back, he insisted on writing his name across the reindeer’s forehead:

An Advent wreath made at school (he goes to a Catholic school):

A crèche made at school in a clementine box.  Mary is the one in blue, Joseph in yellow.  They’re snowmen (snowpeople?).

And to show that I’m not completely deficient in the crafts department and leaving it all up to the school, here’s the Advent countdown thing I made with Lifesavers and Hershey’s Kisses (the Kisses were for Sundays).

Yuckiness in my head

There are at least four things that happened today that are worthy of sharing as blog posts.  And I’m not going to do it.  It’s after 9 pm and I have had a cold for nine days now.  It hasn’t helped matters any that I haven’t been able to fall asleep until after midnight for the past three days (my usual bedtime is more like 10:30) and I haven’t slept in my own bed or eaten my normal diet for those three days.  As a general rule, if I don’t eat well or sleep enough, I get sick.  I was already sick, so I got sicker.  But now I’m home and it’s time to turn this cold around and march it out the door.  I have a week of vacation left and I really don’t want to be sick for the whole thing.  So instead of sharing my stories and philosophizing on them, I will instead type some quick notes for myself (in case I am up to writing these out tomorrow) and then shut the computer down.  I do so hope that I will be able to sleep.  Good night.

Too busy living life to blog

I’ve been meaning to post something here for over a week and just haven’t gotten to it.  Here’s a quick update so I can stop feeling like it’s hanging over my head.

Last Wednesday I attended my first parent-teacher conference as a parent.  Peter’s doing well in school.  His report card was all A’s and B’s with more A’s.  Maybe it’s just me, but it seems weird to give a four-year-old letter grades.  I can see having a report card to assess his progress and development, but not formal grades.  I don’t think he knows what they mean, though, and we didn’t emphasize it.  His teacher gave me a pile of his work and it was fun to look through.  He’s not at all a fan of drawing, but he can make pictures that are at least semi-recognizable.  He drew some cute forest animals for a thematic vocabulary book.    His teacher said that he doesn’t come across as a “level 4 child” (level 4 in Ontario is used to describe work that exceeds the expectations of the provincial curriculum), but that he is “definitely a level 4 child”.  She said that sometimes he seems to zone out and doesn’t seem to be listening, but he can answer questions if asked.  I didn’t say it to her, but I would rather have a kid who doesn’t seem to be listening but can answer questions than a kid who does seem to be listening and can’t answer questions.  I laughed when she predicted that he would become an engineer–we’ve been saying that since he was a year and a half old.

Peter has made a sudden improvement in his ice skating skills.  Last weekend, he started really making an effort to use both feet for skating.  Previously, he balanced on his right foot and pushed with his left foot.  While he obviously still needs a lot of practice, he got around pretty well using alternate feet for both the Saturday practice and Sunday game.  We were very excited and pleased to see it.

On the adoption front, we’ve made some more progress.  Four of the five references have been returned and the fifth person has finally received the form.  I got my medical paperwork filled out and submitted.  We got our FBI clearances back and turned them in.  We had our third homestudy meeting last Wednesday afternoon and discussed our relationship.  It was kind of fun.  Then Don had to leave and the social worker came with me to Peter’s bus stop to meet him.  It was a low-key meeting; she walked back with us from the bus stop and talked with him for a moment outside, then left.  Our next homestudy meeting is scheduled for mid-January and it sounds like it will be the last, then it will take a few months for the homestudy to be written up.

Another adoption update

Today we had our second homestudy meeting.  The social worker spent an hour with me talking about my childhood, my relationship with my family, and various life experiences, then an hour with Don doing the same thing.  We scheduled our third meeting for December 1st.  We scheduled it later in the afternoon so that the social worker can come with us to wait for Peter at his bus stop.  She needs to meet him at some point in the homestudy process, but our meetings so far have been done before Peter came home from school.

I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for a week from Monday to get my medical paperwork done.  I actually had the appointment scheduled for this coming Monday, but I changed it.  The doctor gave me a laboratory requisition sheet for standard blood tests at my new-patient appointment, but since I need to fast, Saturday morning is the most convenient time for me to get them done.  I’d like to see the results at my appointment but I wouldn’t count on them being ready on Monday if I had the blood drawn on Saturday, so I moved the appointment back a week.

It’s not like there’s a huge rush to get it all done, anyhow.  We can’t be approved to adopt until both Don and I have completed all nine sessions of PRIDE training.  I have to make up session 7 and I won’t be able to do it until January 30th.  Don just found out today that he is going to have to miss session 9 (which he would have done a week from today) because he has to attend a city council meeting for one of his classes.  He won’t be able to make it up until March 9th!  So we won’t be done with this stage of the adoption process until mid-March at the earliest.

More Peter funnies

You have to realize that he said these completely seriously, not intending to be funny.

Me:  Did you run around like a lunatic?
Peter:  How fast do lunatics go?

*****

Peter:  Mommy, did I trick you?
Me:  I hope not.
Peter:  Why?
Me:  Because it’s not very nice to trick your mother.
Peter:  Can you do it to your dad?

Making progress

Our homestudy process is still chugging along.  We had our first homestudy meeting on Monday–the social worker came to our house and was here for about an hour and a half to take notes about our daily routines, our home, and why we want to adopt.  Since we’re on the ball and were well-prepared, we were able to discuss acceptable/desirable characteristics of the adoptive child, which she would normally do in the third homestudy visit.  We have a list of things we need to do, like filling out some forms, getting together some pictures of our family, putting a carbon monoxide detector on the second floor (where the bedrooms are), and making a written fire escape plan.  I think we’ll be able to get most of them done this weekend.  We were surprised when the social worker scheduled the second homestudy visit for next Wednesday; we assumed we’d have to wait about a month.  For the second visit, she’ll spend one hour talking with just me, then an hour talking with just Don.  The third meeting will be with both of us again.

In other adoption-related news, the FBI finally charged our credit card.  I was getting worried; it’s been weeks since we mailed them our fingerprints.  So now I’m reassured that they will process them and send our clearances soon.  Also, I found a family doctor to accept us as patients (there’s a doctor shortage in our city, so that’s not as easy as it sounds).  We have a new patient appointment on Monday.  After that, I can schedule an appointment for a physical to get my medical paperwork done (Don already got his done at the university’s walk-in clinic).

It’s amazing for me to notice the daily advances in Peter’s French vocabulary and grammar.  He still uses “moi” (me) instead of “je” (I) (and “toi” instead of “tu” for “you”), but that’s a normal pattern in language acquisition.   This week, he suddenly started using the past tense (albeit imperfectly); I’ve heard him say several times, “Moi ai gagné!”  (“Me won!”)  Questions are new as of about a week ago.  We were walking in the woods last weekend and I said (in French) that I saw a ladybug; he responded “Où est?” (Where is?)  I was impressed when he was playing on the Wii riding a bike and commented after he turned, “Pourquoi moi est allé ici?”  (Why me went here?)  As you can tell from these examples, his grammar certainly isn’t standard yet, but he is definitely communicating and that’s what language is all about.  He has put together some nice sentences like “Aide-moi avec mon bouton” (Help me with my button).

Peter’s first hockey game

Peter played his first ever hockey game this morning.  It was also the first time we had to be at the rink for a 7 am ice time (they rotate the times so that Sunday mornings are either 7, 8, or 9 am, but we missed the previous 7 am ice time when Peter was sick).  They don’t keep score at this level and there’s no talk of winning or losing.  I’m sure some of the kids keep track, but Peter didn’t know where the puck was half the time, so he certainly wasn’t keeping track of the scoring.  When asked after the game, he said his favorite part was playing goalie.  For his very first shift, he played goalie, and he played another shift as goalie later in the game (all the kids take turns).  He had fun, and that’s what counts.

Peter’s settling in

I  have worried about Peter’s adjustment to school, but things have been improving in that area.  Although he had a very rough start,  he hasn’t had a single accident at school for the past two weeks.  I don’t expect that he’s completely done having accidents, but it seems that the worst is over.

When we met with Peter’s teacher before school started, she said something to the effect of, “By the end of October, he’ll be speaking in full sentences in French.”  Well, she was right.  Peter was speaking/singing in French at home since the first day of school, but about 2/3 of the way through October, he really started making an effort to communicate in French (before, it was more like he was repeating aloud what he remembered from the day as a way of reinforcing his learning, just for himself).  He was speaking in full sentences before the end of the month, simple sentences, but full sentences.  He has said things like “Mon nez est violet” (he was being silly, saying his nose was purple) and “Moi est vite” (literally, “Me is fast”–not grammatical, but he is making the effort to put the elements together to communicate).  He speaks French spontaneously to communicate, like to ask for help or to say that he’s done with something, and he responds readily in French when I speak to him in French, like counting when I ask how many of something there are or identifying familiar items in French.  He enjoys sharing vocabulary words that he learns at school, and he’s had to ask me the English names for things he only knew in French (Halloween-themed vocab–we don’t talk about bats, witches, and haunted houses in English all that often).  He says that learning French is fun.  When we met with his teacher last week, she said that he has learned all the vocabulary she’s taught and that he is is one of only a few kids in the class who really make an effort to not speak English.  I’m impressed by how much he is learning and how readily he speaks French at home now.

I’m also starting to appreciate the extent to which he is acquiring another culture as well as a language.  He is developing an identity as a French-speaker.  He participated in activities at school celebrating the franco-Ontarian flag.  He is becoming part of a proud minority group.  I have a strong interest in homeschooling, but after seeing how Peter is responding after less than two full months in a French school, I am feeling that it wouldn’t be fair to him to remove him from French school and cause him to lose that identity and culture (I could probably support him so he wouldn’t lose the language, but he wouldn’t end up fluently bilingual as he will if he stays in French school).  Of course, there is no way to know how things will work out.  Perhaps at some point in the future, homeschooling will be the best thing for him, but for the next few years at least, he’ll be staying in French school.  We think it’s the best thing for him.