I Ran Away from Home Today...

     Today was rough. I don't even know why. Ben was over the top annoying, Jonah just wouldn't stop eating. Jenna was bugging me about an order I placed for her. Doug was mad because I spent our whole last paycheck and only got two bills paid. Kolbe won't stop flipping through the air. No one really did school, with the exception of Kenzie. I ended up running away from home...for about an hour. I dropped off the water bill, and went to the grocery store for more butter. I can't bring myself to buy a whole bunch of butter at once, unless it is really cheap. I keep thinking, that much like gas, it will probably go back down in a day or two, so I only get what I have to have. This of course means I go to the store way too often. To buy butter.

     So, anyway...I ran away from home. On the way I talked to my mom. When I ran out of places to go, I went home, but instead of going inside, I slouched down in the van and called my sister. My Boo, who is leaving me in a few short months for far off Pittsburgh. Alright, so Pittsburgh is an hour and a half away. But, it's not like it's the next town over, like now. It's not like she'll live right near my parents and brother and sister. So, I am missing her already. So, back to hiding from my children. I slouched down, hoping no one would see me if they came to investigate. Luckily, no one did for a good 45 minutes. I got to talk on the phone with my sister, where no one could hear me, and I could moan and complain and yes, even gossip a wee bit, without anyone interrupting, or overhearing something I would rather they didn't, or asking me who I was talking to, or anything. It was great. (I also had a stash of cheapo chocolates, and that made it even better.)

    We talked and talked, and as we did I was reassured that no matter where she went, I could always have this with her. She would always be able to just hang out on the phone with me. While we were talking, we started to wonder if we had ever been mad at each other. More than kid stuff, and more than annoyed. I mean actually angry. Neither one of us could remember a single instance. Maybe that is just the blessing of time, or the fondness of our hearts, I'm not sure. But, for as long as I can remember, she has always been my very best friend. She is the first person I ever worried about. She is the first person I ever took care of. My husband often wonders if I love her more than I love him. Of course I do. And, of course I don't.

     She moved away from me once before, to the actually kind of far off land of Chicago. I think I might have been mad at her then. I really, really hated that she lived so far away. But, they only stayed away for six months, and they came home constantly. I think maybe, as much as she loved Chicago, she missed us.  Now she is moving, and this time it probably will be a bit more permanent. I worry about losing cousin sleepovers, and our girls night out, and the fun of last minute family dinners when we all pile into my folks' house and make them feed the 35+ of us at the drop of a hat (which they always manage to pull off, somehow). I love how close our family has always been, I know how special and rare that can be. I don't want it to change.

 But mostly, I worry about missing my sister. I know I can talk to her anytime I want. I could even drive over to see her pretty easily, but not as easily as dropping in just because we're around. Not as easily as just deciding to have dinner together. It won't be easy to leave all the kids together while we go prowl the aisles of  the craft store or Target. I also worry that she will be lonely, or need me, or will have to walk to "C" Building all by herself. Wait, that was 3rd grade. But that's how I feel.

Megan, Mom, Nain, SupaNain, Trouble....

Megans #1 & #3 - At 90, still beautiful.

I know I already posted today, but I did not want to let a whole lot of time pass before I was able to wax poetic and get all emotional about my grandmother turning NINETY. NINE -OH. Ninety. If you've read here before, you probably know that my grandmother has had a downward spiral in the last year or so. Each member of our family has his or her own feelings about what is happening to her... I guess some of it is inevitable. Just part of aging. It's been hard for me to see her deteriorate. She used to be so full of spit and a bit of vinegar, definitely had some stories to tell. She's been through so much in her life, and we've always said we should write her stories down so they are not forgotten. I'd love to do a bit of that here, and if anyone else would like to leave a story or two she told you in the comments, that would be wonderful. Then we would have them, we would have a record.
I am having a hard time remembering the things she talked about, but I remember some of the things she lived through. Her parents were from Wales, they immigrated to this country a few years or so before she was born. She had four big brothers, two born in Wales. Her parents didn't speak English very well. She never spoke Welsh, but could understand it when it was spoken to her. She grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania during the Great Depression. Some of her brothers and her husband fought in WWII. My grandfather (Pop Pop) was among the US Army personnel that liberated Dachau, though he didn't like to talk about it, he did tell my brother and I some of the things he had seen there. After the Army, my grandfather was in the National Guard for 20 years, retiring a Lieutenant  Colonel, so they were a military family and Nain raised my mom alone for the first year of her life.

Both of her sons were in the Army during the Vietnam War. My Uncle Donny was a paratrooper, and was awarded several medals, including a Silver Star, and a Purple Heart with Clusters. He was released from the Army with Commendations for his bravery. Her other son, Jeff, was in Thailand for much of the war, working as a code translator for the Army. My grandmother had to have had untold stores of strength to get through both sons being oversees, but much worse was to come.

In 1979, my Uncle Donny was killed in an accident. He was only 31 years old. In later years she would survive the deaths of all her brothers, their wives who were her best friends, and her husband. She had buried one son, and the other just drifted away. We haven't heard from him in almost 15 years. I know she carried that pain with her. Through the years, all of her friends passed away, one by one. I think she is the last one of her generation in our family.

Even after Pop-Pop died, she was very independent. She survived breast cancer, but only after having a double mastectomy. She eventually moved from PA to be closer to my mom and dad, but for years she made the 7 hour drive all by herself to come for visits. I know it had to be hard for her to leave Pennsylvania, and all that was comfortable and familiar.

Ninety years can hold an awful lot of life, can't it? So, we gathered. We celebrated. And, for the gazillionth time in a week, we ate cake.

We piled all the kids; big, medium and small, into an activities room at Nain's nursing home. Four generations, all starting with this one tiny woman. She LOVED it! She always loves being the Belle of the Ball, and this birthday was no different. She loved being sung to. She loved the presents, she loved the kids running around like maniacs, having been fed cake and no supper, yet. She had some rare moments of clarity. She seems to always know my mom, and Dani's little Squishy, but she told me to go get Aunt Sadie, who's been dead for 60 years, a piece of cake. I, of course, obliged. We told her how old she was and she thought she must be much older than merely ninety. A minute later she was protesting that she was only 17. (She was hit by a car at 17, and this age and event seems to stick in her head more than most.)

Overall, I think she had a good time. She wasn't ready to quit partying when a nurse came to get her!  We tried, rather unsuccessfully to get a photo with Nain (or SupaNain, as all the great grands call her) and all the great grand children, but it wasn't to be. Meg had class, and a couple of them were rather uncooperative.

Amy, Pete and Nain

SupaNain and Baby Spencer

Nain, my mom and dad, Stacy, Amy, and babies

Kakers and Noodle - why do our nicknames so often revolve around food?

Biz and Wish

Well, we tried!

Happy Birthday, Nain. From you, all of this has come. You are the first of the Megan's, mother of three, grandmother of seven, great grandmother of at least 24! Quite a legacy, #1. Quite a legacy, indeed. I love you.