"Grand"

Let it be known to all that my mother, Mama Jo, does in fact refer to her children's children as "grandchildren." She does, however, still dislike the term "Grandmother."

There you go Mom. Happy now? I have clarified your opinion on placing the word "grand" before other words. And by the way, I never accused you of disliking your three little grandkids. After all, it is obvious by the way you smile whenever you see, hear or smell them that you truly love the Three Amigos. And how many people would gladly give up their Saturday - or even better, a vacation day - to babysit? Not many I tell you. Yes, we know that you love your kids and their kiddos very much.

Now on to tackle the whole "Grandmother" issue. I looked up some definitions on dictionary.com and here is what I found - NOTE: there were multiple definitions, so I simply chose those that best apply to our own Mama Jo:

grand ( P ) Pronunciation Key (grnd)adj. grand·er, grand·est
Wonderful or very pleasing: had a grand time; Having higher rank than others of the same category: a grand admiral; Having more importance than others.

moth·er ( P ) Pronunciation Key (mthr)n.
A woman who conceives, gives birth to, or raises and nurtures a child.

grand·moth·er ( P ) Pronunciation Key (grndmthr, grn-)n.
The mother of one's father or mother; A female ancestor.

Now why do you suppose the definitions of "grand" and "mother" lose a bit of their appeal when they are added together? I don't get it. But, I will tell you that I think of you in the "grandest" sense. So maybe you should begin calling yourself a Grand Mother. Not grandmother. But Grand Mother. Think about it. What better thing is there in the world then having such a titled bestowed upon your character?

Not Sure What Got Into Me

So, now that I only work 30 hours a week, I have each Friday off. I love this. LOVE IT. Usually, I keep Gabs home from school and we just hang out or have lunch with Rosie. Sometimes, I drop Gabs off to school for a few hours so I can do some major cleaning - rarely does this happen.

Last Friday, I decided that I had had enough of the dust, dishes, and dirt so I decided to get my butt out of bed, drop Gabs off to school and clean my house. After a few cups of coffee I was cleaning with ghusto. I guess it was a Spring Cleaning of sorts - it was GORGEOUS outside and the scent of Spring was definatly in the air and I wouldn't rest until the inside of the house smelled as good as the outside!

So off I go cleaning away. It began with the usual cleaning routine - starting some laundry, straightening things up, loading the dishwasher, dusting and eventually tackling the hardwood floors. Then I saw it. The sinister coffee table sitting there so innocently. The same coffee table whose corners always seemed to catch little Gabs forehead no matter what part of the room she was falling in. My husband had said weeks ago that he would move it into storage. Yeah right. We all know how that goes. Weeks had passed and there it still stood taunting me with the threat of more bumps and bruises.

Before I knew it, I had it up on its side and began moving it to the spare bedroom, otherwise known as my husband's "Big Closet." (Yes, he is a clothes, shoes & baseball cap whore). Not willing to stop there, I took the leather loveseat out of the Big Closet and began moving it towards the living room. Then I took the big yucky couch we hate, put it in front of the big front window and covered it with a clean sheet. My living room has NEVER seemed so big! Even the yucky couch looked better. And, I figured that if it was in front of the window, Allie and Bella are bound to use it as a dog bed seeing as they aren't that picky and would have a great view of all passerby's. That way, at least it will be mostly hidden by two dogs until we can finally pay somebody to take it off our hands!

Of course, I was exhausted by the time my project was complete. And Gabs was immediatly pleased when she returned from school and realized that nasty coffee table was nowhere to be found (luckily she hardly ever frequents her fathers Big Closet). Then she and I headed off to the park for some sunshine and sliding. Turns out she is a big fan of the slide. After helping her not only slide down but then walk back up and repeat nearly 500 times, I was through with the park. She wasn't, but I won.

The next day, my back, neck and shoulders scolded me for spending my day off working harder then I ever would on a typical workday. But it was worth it. Even if it was my day off.