Breaking up with someone can be a chore and one is usually left with feelings of disillusionment and pain. I don’t know how anyone could get through it alone, thank goodness I have Gma. (snickering)
Gma: How is your boyfriend?
Me: We broke up.
Gma: Why? What did he do?
Me: He was clingy.
Gma: Lin-G-y?
Me: Clingy.
Gma: Cling-ley?
Me: CLINGY!
Gma: Clin-G-y?
Me: Uhg. He always wanted to know where I was and who I was with.
Gma: Oh? He didn’t trust you?
Me: Exactly.
Gma: What did you do?
Me: Nothing. He was just clingy.
Gma: Clin-L-y?
Me: (sigh) He just wanted to know where I was.
Gma: I don’t like that. He didn’t trust you. You know what I say to that?
Me: What?
Gma: (blowing raspberry {seriously}) That’s no happy birthday.
Me: You’re right. That’s no happy birthday.
(silence)
Gma: How is your boyfriend?
Me: We broke up.
Gma: That is what I thought. Why?
We continued on with this conversation for around 2 more hours, but it was always nice knowing that Gma had my back.
When I think of Grandmas, I imagine little cottages, the smell of cookies baking, smiles and hugs. What do I get? I get an assisted living facility, the smell of body odor, and tart comments like “Do you want me to smell like a whore?”. With my grandma everyday is a new adventure.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
My Competition…also known as Emmy, the 7-year old
I will admit it had been quite sometime between visits to Gma. Recently, I stopped in for a little visit and found that good ol’ Gma had basically replaced me…with a 7-year old named Emmy*.
Me: Gma? Who is the girl in this picture?
Gma: Emmy, of course.
Me: Ummm…Emmy? Who is Emmy?
Gma: My pen pal.
Me: Well, do you want me to put the pictures of boys and I up?
Gma: I don’t want them up. I have Emmy.
Me: (thinking that she was finally getting her marbles back.) What is my name Gma?
Gma: Meh, I don’t know.
Me: Gwen.
Gma: Eh, that is what I thought.
As I sat there listening to all the things that Emmy and Gma had done I began to grow a bit jealous. I also noted that there were several paintings around the apartment.
Me: Gma? Have you been painting? (Holding up painting) This is really cute.
Gma: Not mine.
Me: Are you sure? It has your name on it.
Gma: Not mine.
Me: Who else would have put your name on it?
Gma: Someone sneaky.
Me: Hmmm…(holding up photo of Gma painting) What are you doing in this photo?
Gma: Painting with Emmy of course. I just did blue circles.
Me: Ah. I see.
Obviously, I need to visit Gma a little more often so I can bump Emmy* out of the running for favorite grandchild.
*Child’s name has been changed.
Me: Gma? Who is the girl in this picture?
Gma: Emmy, of course.
Me: Ummm…Emmy? Who is Emmy?
Gma: My pen pal.
Me: Well, do you want me to put the pictures of boys and I up?
Gma: I don’t want them up. I have Emmy.
Me: (thinking that she was finally getting her marbles back.) What is my name Gma?
Gma: Meh, I don’t know.
Me: Gwen.
Gma: Eh, that is what I thought.
As I sat there listening to all the things that Emmy and Gma had done I began to grow a bit jealous. I also noted that there were several paintings around the apartment.
Me: Gma? Have you been painting? (Holding up painting) This is really cute.
Gma: Not mine.
Me: Are you sure? It has your name on it.
Gma: Not mine.
Me: Who else would have put your name on it?
Gma: Someone sneaky.
Me: Hmmm…(holding up photo of Gma painting) What are you doing in this photo?
Gma: Painting with Emmy of course. I just did blue circles.
Me: Ah. I see.
Obviously, I need to visit Gma a little more often so I can bump Emmy* out of the running for favorite grandchild.
*Child’s name has been changed.
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