I kinda think Mother’s Day is dumb to begin with, honestly I think we should be honouring our Mother’s everyday for all the crap we put them through, not just one day. This hasnt’ changed since having kids either. Firstly, it’s not really a day off. I still had to wake up, I still made breakfast (coconut banana pancakes, yum) and still had to change shitty diapers. Hubs helped with dishes which was nice.
This Mother’s Day ended abruptly for my when a call from my sister came to tell me that my Grandma was being rushed to hospital. So I thought it would be fitting to write this post for her.
My Grandma is 91 years young and has lived an incredible story, long and short of it, she survived a Concentration Camp, had three daughters that she raised mostly on her own, came to Canada, met my Grandpa (who passed away at 90 yrs old back in 1995), had my Dad and well the rest is history. Kinda. Anyways, while sitting in the Hospital waiting with my sister, I started remembering some of my favorite memories of her while growing up, and wanted to share them with you all.
Pie - Grandma always made the most amazing pie. Apple was her specialty but knowing that Lemon meringue was my fave she would always have one in the fridge for me. It was my pie, I didn’t have to share with anyone. She would also let us eat apple pie for breakfast, I love pie.
Crochet Slippers – She was an accomplished seamstress, and for many years my sisters and I were outfitted with everything from corduroy pants to dresses, but the one item that always stayed constant even after she stopped knitting sweaters and sewing for everyone was her crochet slippers. There is still a basket full of them at my mom’s for when guests come over. And even now at the home every now and then she’ll pick up the hook and knock out a couple of pairs in record time.
Humour – It may be quirky at best but she’s one of the funniest ladies I know. Some may call her a bit off her rockers but don’t let her fool you, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Cooking - I know most people have grandma’s that cook, but I can still taste the amazing sauces, perogies, fresh garden salads and did I mention Pie’s that came out of her kitchen, and yet I never ever remember seeing a cook book or recipe in site. Never.
Babcia was always up for anything and did anything she could to try to keep up with the three of us. I remember the one time I convinced her to race me while she was on foot and I on a bike. It ended with her hand in a cast. She laughed it off and we did it again the next day.
My grandparents didn’t drive so when we wanted to go shopping she’d load us up onto the number 3 bus that stopped right in front of her house, took us to the mall and spoiled us rotten, but not before we stopped at Woolworth’s for a snack and coffee. There was always people there she knew and I’m pretty sure the only reason we HAD to stop was so she could show us off to her friends.
They also had the biggest and best garden, and raspberry bushes that went on for miles. There was no such thing as veggies that came from the grocery store, if it wasn’t in the garden it was in a jar sitting on a shelf in the cold room in the basement. Juice came from the syrup she made will all the raspberries.
So as my sister’s and I sit in the hospital waiting for my beloved Grandma to feel better, as she spits her applesauce that she now knows I’ve been crushing her meds into, I laugh, I laugh because I love her. Hell if someone was force feeding me meds I didn’t want, I hope I’d have the guts to spit it at them too. After everything she’s done for me and the memories she’s given me, this is what I can now do for her. Give up my Mother’s Day, week, year, however long it takes so that she doesn’t sit here alone, has someone to make her feel comfortable, and help communicate with the nurses and smile reassuringly when she tells me she needs help walking home the two blocks so she can make dinner, Johnny (my Grandpa) has been planting potatoes and is waiting for his dinner.