The Fear Of Grandma Clara

My daughter experiences night terrors now and again, less frequently than the preschool years, thank goodness.  The bouts are fairly predictable, typically followed by lengthy conversations.[1]  Sometimes I just hang out with her, telling stories about various people in our lives.  The most popular by far are Grandma stories.  Whether it’s my Mother, Grandmother or Great Grandmother, she soaks up every word and asks for more.  Now that she’s a bit older, I think it’s time to tell her a surprising story about my Great Grandma Clara. 

Great Grandma Clara (AKA Grandma Clara, because our clan is just not that formal), was a force to be reckoned with; a battle ship holding the line and deflecting bullets.  I spent a large portion of my childhood at her modest home in North Dakota.  I still remember the ornate wrought iron patio set out front, painted white.[2]  Considered tall at 5’7”, Grandma Clara was a staunch German woman that people feared and respected—at least in my mind.  And Heaven Forbid if anyone messed with her apple tree!  I heard tell she once spanked a kid all the way home, then chewed out the parents!  Oh, how they hated to see her coming, too.  I think they were more scared than the kids!   

It was quite a shock to learn that when Grandma Clara was younger, she was fearful, even terrified at times.   Sadly, I have little knowledge of our family history; mostly cherished memories passed around the table after a filling holiday dinner.  Her large German family came to Ellis Island from Russia.  She married and moved to a farm in North Dakota.  A few years down the road, her husband had a heart attack, leaving Grandma behind with a gaggle of mouths to feed.  Because women were not allowed to own property, even as a widower, she and the kids were evicted from the farm.  (Isn’t that a strange?  It seems so foreign compared to the culture we live in today). 

As the story goes, Grandma Clara moved the family to the nearest town and started working in a restaurant.  No matter what the circumstance, that woman could COOK.  That’s a whole ‘nother story.[3]  Then she met a nice man, George.  They got married and the family grew.[4]     

Now, I’m not exactly clear whether or not Grandma Clara was always afraid, what she was afraid of, or why she was afraid.  But from what I understand, here’s how it ended: 

Late--very late--one night, Grandma heard the front door opening.  Grandpa was working graveyard at the railroad a block away (no one locked their doors back then) yet the door was opening and in stumbled a dark figure.  It must have been dark, because Grandma couldn’t see who was coming through the door.  But her reaction was not that of the strong woman I remember standing at the kitchen sink, deftly peeling potatoes and scrubbing fresh cucumbers from the garden for pickling.   The truth is that Grandma Clara started screaming in terror; crying and cowering into a corner.  

Now, the reason this story was passed along was not to shame my Grandmother, but to poke fun at the neighbor.  You see, the next door neighbor had a little too much to drink after work, and walked into the wrong house!  He was three sheets to the proverbial wind, inebriated, and just plain old fashioned shnockered.  Honestly, I would’ve freaked out too, if someone walked in to my house, drunk or not.  Neighbor or not! 

This is where it really gets interesting; the part I want to share with my little girl.   Grandma Clara was filled with fear.  She was also filled with determination and strong will.  It was her strong will that pushed her family through a storm of grief.  I suspect there was no small part of her that was humiliated once the neighbors started talking, too.   

This incident proved to be pivotal in her life.  From that point on, Grandma Clara stopped being afraid.  She vowed to never let her fear distract her from truth and reality.  Whatever the driving factor was, a stronger woman stood before her family and the world. 

By the time I came along, Grandma Clara was a different woman.  Hardened in some ways, but ever practical, stern and loving.  We enjoyed each others’ company and I learned many things from her over the years.  Cooking, unfortunately, was not one of the things.   Her strong-will (even when she was clearly in the wrong) has carried onto her great, great granddaughter.  This is the story my determined yet fearful daughter needs to hear.  She is just as strong, just as courageous and just as loving as my Great Grandma Clara. 

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[1] To the degree of entrapment.  Honestly that child can drag out a conversation!

[2] By me, every summer

[3] My stomach grieves the memory of her pickles.

[4] She had all boys after the first born daughter--my Grandma Genny!

Gods & Monsters

I had an interesting conversation with Raynee today.  Well, actually two that neatly coincided with the opportunity to really talk to her about God.  Not the biblical aspect, that’s why we go to Awana’s and Sunday school. 

Currently, we are going through a mild version of the Night Terror stage.  One thing I will say is that for her it’s very real and she struggles nightly to stay awake.   Surprisingly, there’s only been a few nights has she crawled into bed with us.   Truth be told, both Mitch & I enjoy the snuggle time.  Until that sweet little foot nails me in the throat. 

It’s been frustrating and painful, yet her coping mechanism is so impressive for her age.  From the very first evil Disney character—Ursula—she established an imaginary alliances.  For example:  when she was 2 1/2 –ish and would get spooked at night, she would tell Ursula to guard the bedroom door and keep the monsters out.  Cripes, I didn’t think of that until I was 4 or 5. 

Roughly two years later, I’ve had to co-chair “meetings” to organize Team Villain.  On three different occasions we’ve had to call in the ladies: Evil Queen from Snow White, Evil Queen Maleficent, Ursula, and Cruella, just to name a few.  Let’s not forget the boys: Jafar, Sully and Mikey (led by “Her Boy” Randall from Monsters Inc.).   True story.  Had all the entrances and perimeter covered. 

As mentioned before, this phase has been challenging for her.  But today an opportunity dropped in my lap and quite frankly it was one of my better Mommy moments.  It began in a conversation on the way to school (and I pray we’ll be able to talk like this until she’s 50).   Casually, she mentions that she’s unable to sleep and wakes up often.  This is making her tired, understandably.  Without offering any advice, I try a different approach. “That must be very frustrating”, and let her continue to talk.

 

This has been weighing heavy on my heart and our options are running low.  We’ve even moved her furniture around and repositioned her bed.  Last week I suggested she where her glasses at night (thinking if she could see clearly it would ease her mind).  Nope.  This is one of many, many things that she’s going to have to overcome on her own.  Sigh.

After school, she was mentions how mad she is at Randall.  Apparently, she’s been asking him to come out and protect her at night.  But he isn’t coming.  Quietly I hear, “That’s because he isn’t real, Mom”, she says sadly.  Here we go, folks.  Hope I don’t blow it.  “I’ve got a secret for you, honey. Monsters aren’t real, either.”  My big moment had a hell of an impact--she stopped talking.  I could feel her processing that concept.  Giving myself a mental pat on the back, I ask what she wants for lunch. Little did I know that my real opportunity was only a few hours away, at bedtime. 

Lately, Daddy has entered the building and is rocking her world.  Our bedtime routine has shifted a bit and Daddy reads books before bed now.  I still get my goodnight moment, then I’m off to do my thing.   Tonight, as I pass her room, she runs out to ask me if I could sleep in her room tonight, because of the monsters.  Not quite sure how to handle it, I put her off for a moment.  Her disappointment resonated, but sleeping in her room will not resolve anything (except ease her mind for one night.  I feel so shitty).   She goes back to snuggle with Dad while I wash the day’s chaos off my face. 

Once my mind is clearer (insert joke here), I return to her room.  Still no idea what to say yet, I sit down next to her (Mitch is almost asleep) and just be with her for a minute.  Out of no where, the words just come out of my soul. 

“Remember the verse from Awana’s class tonight?  Trust in the Lord”?  Her sleepy eyes sadly look away.  “Remember today in the car when you said Randall isn’t real”?  Her eyes cut to me and I have her attention.  “Well, since we know that Randall isn’t real, but God is, why don’t we ask God to watch over us instead? 

I continue, "You know, he has soooo many angels, over a million at least”.  “Does he have one for me”?  Now her eyes are wide and words are hopeful. “I know he does.  He has lots.  Did you know that Mommy believes God has given her at least five Guardian Angels and I believe he has some for you, too.  All you have to do is ask Him”.  For the first time, I see hope in her eyes and the wheels turning in her lightning-quick mind. 

“And you wanna know a secret?  He’s already been watching over you.  Ever since you were born.  Because He loves you so much.  Just like me”.

It’s so rare when I get something right. 

Common Sense strikes again!

Twenty years ago, my skin care routine consisted of witch hazel and Lubriderm. (Lubriderm.  icky word.  Don't they have a marketing department)?  While most people find this appalling, my wonderful friend Dawn—who, by her own proclamation knows scads of interesting factoids on a variety of topics--has enlightened me.  Apparently, witch hazel is in fact good for the skin.  (Admittedly, I’ve already forgotten why.  Honestly, my brain only wants the bottom line.  Everything gets too muckly after that).

 In spite of simplistic grooming habits, my appearance is that of a much younger person.  Not from any “routine” by any measure.  The good Lord blessed me with the skin (and energy) of a thirty-something woman.  It’s my belief that in His wisdom, He blessed me with the gift of youth.  To make up for the obvious lack of common sense. 

Yes, I’m aware of my “little problem”, typically it surfaces in the most quality of situations.  Like when people are around.  [“Hi, I’m Yvette and I lack common sense”.  You don’t see those meetings, do ya]?   Luckily, my spirit remains strong, resilient with an alarming lack of pride.

Here’s where I start to lose the male audience, AKA my sweet husband.  Upon receiving my MK Miracle Set (included in the business kit), an official “routine” began to fester.  I’ve always been a wash once, lotion once kind of girl—when I feel like it. It was a big leap of faith to drop Origins for MK.  Not to mention my Arbonne eye crème.[1]

With MK, there are 5 steps at night + morning stuff.  Cripes.  That notion seems worse than actually having to be somewhere on time.  Of course, there’s no requirement to use all the steps.  So I didn’t.   

It all started with the TimeWise cleanser and moisturizer.  The cleanser is kinda cool; because of these teeny red cleansing beads that gently exfoliate the day’s gunk away.  And they actually do freshen my skin!  The moisturizer itself is not as creamy as Origins, but looks (and smells) better.   

After about a week, my skin is clear with a fresh glow.  Pleased, I decide to sample the TimeWise Firming Eye cream.  The very idea of successfully tackling the problem eye area seemed promising.  Immediately, I loved this one.  It re-introduces the cream back into eye cream; feeling rich and smooth on my fingertips.  With my index finger, I blot spots in and around my eye lids. 

At this point, you may be envisioning a shiny clean face.  Yeah--not so much.   Water resistant mascara rarely comes off  completely with cleanser.  It does, however, create black raccoon-y smears around the eyes.  Pretty! 

As the cream fades the black robber mask, it almost immediately starts to sting.  Not intense or anything, but curious just the same.  Not wanting to be judgmental, I try it for two more nights.  Then Persistence kicks in (usually in my backside), and after a week the skin around my eyes are raw.  [My name is Yvette and I have no common sense].  Apparently, the cream is not meant for the eye LID, only the eye AREA.  What does that mean??  

To alleviate the sting, I just try the eye makeup remover.  It’s a groovy, clear, lava lamp-like oil mixture that just might soothe the sting.  Not so much, but it does a really nice job and eradicated mascara clumps and flakes.  An instant and unexpected hit!  As for the eye cream, all is not lost.  There are literally thousands of women who swear by the Firming Eye cream.  Luckily, MK has another option: the TimeWise Age Fighting eye cream.  I’m optimistic.  People, we have a routine.

Here’s a nifty thing:  the Firming Eye Cream comes in a dispenser that pumps just the right amount needed.  There are many of these dispensers in the Mary Kay line and are absolutely recyclable! 

Speaking of containers, I have to share another “behind the scenes” gem.  As mentioned previously, the MK corporation has dedicated themselves to giving back (MK goes pink for cancer, monetary donations to shelters, etc.).   In the spirit of our “Reduce, Recycle and Reuse” world, MK has implemented an aggressive recycling program in 2011: Pink Doing Green.  Scroll down for the blurb[2]:

Summing up:  1. A routine has been established, and my skin is loving it.  Well worth the extra steps.  2.  Hope is not lost on the quest for eye cream and I’ve recovered quickly.  3.  Mary Kay has a fantastic recycling program.  As for the business side, I’ve managed to meet my 50% mark without phone calls.  And I have no more clumpy eyelashes.  Life is pretty darned good.    

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[1] Apparently, what used to be cute, Goldie Hawn-looking crinkly eyes (again, in my mind), have de-volved into “wrinkly, squinty pirate eyes”.  Honestly, sometimes it’s shocking to catch a glimpse of my reflection.  The appearance in my brain and that of reality are…let’s just say: different. 

[2] As part of our ongoing commitment to Pink Doing Green^SM, Mary Kay Inc. will plant one tree in the United States in partnership with the Arbor Day Foundation and the U.S. Forest Service for every 10 flip-top caps and/or color refill cases received by Mary Kay Inc. through December 2011 -- up to 100,000 trees.