Grandma Hollywood and the minis

During Grandma Hollywood's recent visit to oh-Alison-it's-too-cold-here Ohio, I spent a morning with her and my two minis. The nearly 90 years between them brought forth a range of encounters, some endearing, some frustrating, and some just plain hysterical.

For starters, my kids don't perceive age. They see Grandma Hollywood's thin coarse white hair and say, "Great Grams' hair is funny." Nor do they perceive the limitations that come with age. They expect her to scoop them up to her level, and bless her still beating heart, she tries. And it breaks mine to watch her disappointment when she realizes that her ability to lift a small child is forever in her past. My spunky and gregarious daughter is unaware that when she barrels into Grandma Hollywood's 90 year old legs, she risks knocking my grandmother to the floor, a fall from which Grandma literally might not recover.

And yet Grandma Hollywood lives as if the life-threatening fall would be worth it. When Miss Harper Lynn looked at her and said, "Chase me, Great Grams," Grandma Hollywood looked at me and said, "What did she say?" I responded, "She wants you to chase her." Grandma only grinned, and sure enough, she started her feeble chase, a snail's pace behind my hare of a daughter. And my 2 year old baby girl only knew one thing, she was being chased. The burst of squeals and giggles that ensued were as dramatic and effervescent as if the chase might actually result in a catch.

As I sat with my grandmother listening to her repeat the stories I had heard dozens of times before, I juggled my annoyance of her faulty memory with the constant needs of my kids, "I need to poop! I need to poop! I keep tooting and I need to poop!" No matter how high her hearing aids were turned up, Grandma Hollywood needed clarification on almost everything the kids said, "What is he talking about, Alison?"

Well, Grandma, do you really want to know?

Though I'd love for you to believe that each exchange between my grandmother and children results in pure joy and laughter, there is much harmony to be desired.

Typical of most three year old boys, my son sees pillows and immediately thinks fort. As he pulled the decorative pillows from the couch, Grandma Hollywood became intensely concerned. "Alison, do you see what he's doing?"

Me: "Yes, he's fine, Grandma."

Grandma Hollywood: "But he's pulled all of the pillows off of the couch."

Me: "I know Grandma; he's just playing."

Grandma Hollywood walked away in obvious disapproval of my son's creativity and my kids-these-days parenting. And typical of most three year old boys, it was a mere five minutes before Henry was distracted, leaving the pillow fort glaring at my grandmother. She wasted no time. I've never seen feeble bones move so fast. In record time, she had each of those pillows fluffed and positioned back on the couch ready for a magazine cover shoot, thankyouverymuch.

There wasn't much to say when my son ran back into the room and blurted, "What happened to my fort?!"

I took one look at my now-playing-dumb grandmother and turned back to my son, saying what every good granddaughter would say, "Go play."

As I sat across from my 90 year old grandmother, a woman whose grace has deteriorated while her opinions have intensified, I wonder if she remembers the days when her four children were small, imaginative bursts of energy. "Alison, Henry didn't finish his lunch." "Alison, what is that noise?" "Alison, where did Harper go?" "Alison, don't your children wear socks?" "Alison, Henry went into the bathroom." "Alison, Harper is climbing on the table." Alison. Alison. Alison. The thoughts swirling in my mind were not of a very good granddaughter.

The sweet and gentle Mrs. Claus of a grandmother who I remember has evolved into a nosey, nagging, negative Nancy. And yet as I gather my minis to say goodbye to the woman who still travels solo 2000+ miles from California to spend time with us, she clasps her thin-skinned hands around my face and directs her macular degenerated eyes directly into mine. With pure sincerity and warmth, she says to me, "Alison, I love you and your family so so much." She doesn't let go. She stays there for what seems like minutes. And I begin to melt, remembering only a fraction of what she has survived in a near century: the loss of a twin and mother during birth, the horrors of a wicked stepmother, the passing of a spouse, and the sudden death of a child.

And it's no surprise that within minutes of her departure, I long for her company once again, kicking myself for the moments squandered because of my irritability and impatience. The distance now between us truly does cause my heart to swell, and I become saddened as I think of her now home alone, her only companion the chiming clock that strikes every 15 minutes, a sobering reminder of the minutes passing, her memory fading, her brain diminishing, and her body failing.

Thank you, Jesus, for Grandma Hollywood. Wrap her in Your comfort and peace as she suffers the countless losses that come with her age. Help me to remember the blessing it is to still have a living grandparent. And give me patience and a controlled tongue in those moments when I want to load her back on a plane destined for California.

Proud to be a Buckeye MOM!

We are 13+ years away from the day Henry will declare his commitment to The Ohio State University, accepting a full athletic scholarship, thankyouverymuch. And I imagine that will be one of my proudest days as a Buckeye mom.

But even at 3 years old, my little Buckeye is already making his mother's scarlet and gray heart swell.

For those of you who don't know, my incredible husband recently cycled 100 miles in the Pelotonia - an event that raised money for cancer research. Matt was a member of Team Buckeye, and two weeks before the ride, Team Buckeye hosted a Biking with Brutus event at the Horseshoe.

It. Was. Awesome.

AWESOME.

One end of the stadium was converted into a carnival with tons of activities for kids. The highlight of the evening was a bike ride for children, allowing the kids to ride the perimeter of the football field. Present that evening were plenty of Buckeye All-Stars: Brutus, the cheerleaders, the pep band, Dr. Gordon Gee, and ARCHIE!!! The event was only open to families of Team Buckeye, making for an intimate atmosphere.

I tell you what, the riders had to raise a LOT of money for Pelotonia, but each rider committed $100 of their own to cover the cost of the ride (that allowed for all financial support raised to go directly to cancer research). The Team Buckeye event alone was worth the $100 - it was such a blast.

Brutus & Henry - my heart skips a beat.

Though Harper loves Brutus, she was a bit skeptical of the live-and-in-person version.

My son in the end zone. Surely this is a glimpse into his future :)

Oma & Opa joined us. Opa was also a member of Team Buckeye.

Henry plays OSUMB daily. Lately he's been obsessed with the sousaphones. I tear up just thinking of him dotting the i.

Brutus, Archie and a few other characters rode on giant tricycles. Brutus was such a good sport - slowing down so that each kid passed him. Henry still talks about how he beat Brutus in the race.

Every good sporting event needs a cute cheerleader.

Notice my Dad pointing? He's telling Dr. Gee, "That's my grandson!"

And they're off!

Typical Henry, distracted by an airplane.

The final stretch.

You see a medal. I see a Heisman Trophy.

By far the best picture of the evening. Even you freaks non-Buckeye fans can appreciate the awesomeness of this moment.

Thank you, Team Buckeye! And thank you to all the Pelotonia riders. I adore you all for making such a commitment to eliminate this horrific disease.

Grandma Hollywood turns NINETY!

Remember Grandma Hollywood? The matriarch and queen bee of my family? Did I mention that twice a year she travels over 2000 miles from beautifully pleasant California to Grandma-really-likes-to-complain-about-the-weather Ohio - and she travels ALONE?! I know, I know, she's amazing.

So this year she flew out in June, one month before her 90th birthday. And let me tell you, my grandma looks damn good for 90. When I realized that my maternal grandmother was turning 90, I first thought, "Crap. I don't want those genes. I don't want to live until 90." But then I looked at the gal and thought, "Shoot! Screw 90. I'll live until 100 if it means looking like that." She's pretty hot, a fact that has been confirmed by her neighbor who has offered to "keep her company" if she's ever interested. The man can't keep his paws off of her. But don't you worry. Grandma Hollywoood's lived in Southeast LA for over 50 years making her the Mamacita de Samoline Avenue Locos and she ain't messin' wit no hombre.

So where was I? Yes, my hottie-bo-bottie almost 90-year-old Grandma flew out for a visit, and my always hospitable mamma decided to throw Grandma a surprise birthday bash. It was touching to see how many people gave up their Friday night to celebrate my Grandma - most of these people only knowing her from Grandma's occasional visits.

Her actual birthday isn't until July 24th, so she was obviously surprised to know that all these people showing up were there to honor her.

It was one of those amazing nights where I sat back and breathed in all the love that my family shares.

And I thank God that Grandma Hollywood is still around to share in that love.

While everyone was gathering outside, my parents' dog, Heidi, sampled the birthday cake.

And naturally, these two had to sample the key lime pie. It's a good thing that the dog and kids are cute.

We spent most of the night in my parents' backyard. It was beautiful.

The only thing missing was the rest of the family. My Grandma has three daughters and one son (her son has passed). Aside from my mom, her family, and my cousin Jared's family, everyone else lives in Southern California. The California family would celebrate Grandma's birthday at a later date.

9 candles - one for each decade.

Grandma with her youngest great-grandbaby. 88 years between them - amazing.

It's not easy shopping for a woman who has already started giving away many of her valuables. Nonetheless she had some wonderful gifts to open.

Bless my mom's heart. She read each and every card to my Grandma. Grandma can only read when wearing her magnifying eyeglasses and she can't hear unless her hearing aids are cranked to the max.

Grandma laughed a lot. It was such a blessing to watch her so joyful.

That's Pauline playing with Jenson. Pauline is one of my mom's dearest friends, and Pauline just happened to be my middle school guidance counselor. Pauline is really really good with middle schoolers and toddlers. It's peculiar, really.

My sister and dad. Love.

If you want your face to look thin in a photograph, stick your neck out. See?

I gave my grandmother a framed picture of all 7 of her great-grandbabies. Needless to say she couldn't tell who was who in the picture. She said, "I'll have to get out my magnifying glass and look at this later."

This is what happens when you give a 90-year-old a pair of white capri pants, elastic waist, size 8. She was ELATED. No seriously, she was so thrilled to be given those darn pants. Apparently my mom and Grandma had been to several stores only days before and could not find a pair to save their lives. All it took my fashionably savvy sister was a visit to ONE store to find the perfect pair. Thank you Penny's!

Here Morgan explains how she is awesome and found the magical pants. My Grandma's face says, "I'm in disbelief that you found white capri pants, elastic waist, size 8."

What kids don't love a party? Our friend, Aaron, came over with his niece, Audrey. The four minis were instant friends.

Getting four minis to sit still on a hammock proved impossible as you can see by how blurry the kids are in this picture.

I'm fairly certain this was their second helping of cake.

Harper had some very important "older women" questions to ask Audrey.

Crazy cuteness.

That's Susie. Another dear friend of my mom's. I just adore these women for loving on my Grandma so stinkin' well.

Did I mention that Pauline is also really funny? At least my 90 year old Grandma thinks so.

Audrey really wanted to be in our family picture. We kindly kicked her out.

Grandma with the Nameth clan.

Grandma with her Ohio family. Jared was in Cambodia and Ella & Jake were in California so only Lisa and Jenson made it to the party. Pauline is standing behind the camera trying to get the kids to smile. She was playing peek-a-boo, and instead of smiling, Harper was imitating.

Happy Birthday, Grandma Hollywood. I would not be surprised if in 10 years we are celebrating your 100th. You're a lifer.

The Hooper Family

What can I say? The Hooper Family - they are so so so dear to me.

They are my husband's family. Technically they are my husband's family on his dad's side. My father-in-law, Roger, has one brother and a half sister. Between them there are 7 kids and 10 grandbabies.

What I love most about them is that they have loved this sheltered city girl from the minute they met me. These folks are country bred, still living and breathing the sweet country breeze, and yet they don't treat me like the foreigner I am. Not only have they embraced me, but they've opened my eyes to a different way of life, where slowin' down means savoring each moment and simplicity brings a greater appreciation of each opportunity.

Memorial Day weekend we traveled south for the annual Shrimp Boil at Matt's cousin's Scott's house. The first time I went to Scott's house we came home with one of Scott's dead birds - alive only minutes before we loaded up for home. Scott gave it to Matt so that Matt could train our new pup to fetch birds. It was a learning curve for me like no other. Not only was I learning that my sweet labrador puppy needed a freshly-whacked bird to fetch if he was gonna be a huntin' dog, but I was also learning that it wasn't uncommon to keep birds for the purpose of training dogs. Like raising a rat to feed a snake or keeping live crickets to feed a pet lizard, some folks keep birds as eventual bait for training dogs. And now our cooler full of Stella Artois had been overtaken by a very dead and bloody bird.

I remember driving home that night in disbelief. I was raised in the 'burbs, for goodness sakes. We lived on a cul-de-sac ruled by pages of zoning laws and building codes - uniform mailboxes, three-inch grass lawns, city-approved fencing, and absolutely no hunting.

Now I'm married to a man who moved a refrigerator-size gun safe into my home. There was a time when I celebrated seasons by shopping Banana Republic's new fall line. Now the seasons in my life are defined by doves and ducks and deer.

But here's a secret. And please don't tell my husband (because there's a gorgeous leather purse at BR that I've been drooling over), but I actually like my city girl meets country boy life. I like it a lot a lot a lot. I love that my husband taught me to shoot a gun in his parents backyard. I love that my kids are growing up surrounded by four-wheelers and above-ground pools. Even though I'm still learning to stomach some of the country life, I'm so thankful that my kids will have exposure to both the city and the country - making memories that I never had the opportunity to make.

Honestly, I didn't think I'd feel this way when I married Matt. I assumed our urban surroundings would gradually take their toll, pulling him farther away from his firm country roots. But God has shown me that He has no such plans. In fact, God has slowly tugged on my heart, revealing Himself to me in the most precious ways on my in-laws 400-acre property in a small town that the Hoopers have called home for well over a century.

Through my marriage, I have been given the blessing of experiencing a different culture. And it is an honor to watch as that culture seeps its way into my own, a merger were the dividing lines are blurring, creating a family that has a love for things both here and there.

For that I am so thankful.

I love this family.