The Saddest Day

I can't sleep.  My heart is too heavy, even though it feels like it has shattered into a million little pieces.

My grandmother passed away this morning.  She would have been 95 next month.

It hurts so much.

My grandmother was so much more to me than just a grandma.  She was my mother.  She raised me off and on until I was about 7 or 8 years old.  Then full time just months before my 11th birthday.

She was my best friend.  My confidante.  She was the one to sing to me when I couldn't sleep.  She was the one who made me teas when my tummy hurt.  And with her magic words, she healed all of my scrapes and bruises.  Sana, sana, colita de rana...

Part of me wishes she were here now to heal my broken heart.  But this is a wound that only time can heal.

Right now, I'm in stunned silence.  I don't think I've spoken more than a dozen words all day since I learned of her passing.  It's not that I don't want to speak, I just can't.

When I was about 15, my grandmother purchased a funeral plan.  For weeks, she planned her funeral,  picked out a casket, even going so far as to trying them out.  I in turn, was mortified and didn't understand how she could talk about death and her funeral like it something so completely normal.

"Don't be sad, mija.  When I die, it will be because I've gone home to be with the Lord.  I'm going to be so happy when that day comes.  So, don't cry.  Don't wear black.  Be happy for me.  Be happy for you.  And continue to live your life.  Don't stop just because I'm no longer here."

Easier said than done.

Even knowing Gramm's wishes, I ache.  Everything reminds me of her.   And I remember every single thing about her, down to her favorite flower: carnations.

I realize how incredibly lucky and blessed I was to have been raised by my grandmother.  She was a remarkable woman.  And her memory will always live on.

I love you, Gramm.

Anita B. Enriquez
January 12, 1917 - December 9, 2011
Descanse en Paz


How Not to Write a Blog Post

Photo credit
You are a blogger and you love to write.  But you're also a full-time wife and mom and you've been so busy lately that you haven't had any time to dedicate to your beloved blog.  The only thing you've written this week is an absence excuse note and a grocery list.

You are having serious withdrawals.

You complain to your Hubby and kiddies, who in turn, fear for your sanity feel guilty for keeping you from doing something that brings you so much joy.  To make it up to you, they have promised to leave you alone to write for one full hour.  Sixty uninterrupted minutes.  Plenty of time to write one of the genius blog posts you've written in your head the past week.

A blogger's dream come true.

This is the story of how you spend that hour.

•  Grab a cup of coffee and head to your office/bedroom. 
•  Turn on your computer and go directly to your blog's dashboard.  Do not pass go and don't even think about Facebook or Twitter.
•  Stare at the blank screen and spend the first 5 minutes thinking of the perfect SEO-friendly, attention grabbing title. 
•  Unable to think of a title for what could possibly be the best blog post you've ever written, you head to Facebook hoping to find a little inspiration.

•  You glance down at the little clock down in the corner of your computer screen and see that you've already wasted 10 minutes.   You return to your unwritten blog post and focus on writing.   
•  That lasts all of 2 minutes.  Your mind is reeling with thoughts of the day's events and all of the things you have to do before your daughter's birthday this weekend. You can't concentrate like this!  Maybe you'll feel better after you've focused on a smaller task, like answering a couple of emails from earlier this week. 
•  Another 10 minutes have passed and you start feeling guilty because you still haven't started writing that blog post. 
•  You force yourself to buckle down and get to work.  This time you actually start writing. But 5 minutes into your story, you remember that tomorrow is your Hubby's grandmother's birthday, so.... 
• head to Pinterest for what you promise yourself will be a quick search for the perfect birthday cake to bake tomorrow.   
•  Hubby walks in on you and sees your computer screen covered with images of birthday cakes, inspirational quotes and angel costumes and asks, "What happened to 'I HAVE to write'?" 
•  You look like a cross between a deer caught in the headlights and a prepubescent boy caught looking at naughty pictures online, but you still manage to counterattack with "What happened to 'uninterrupted'?" 
•  Hubby scurries out of the room, but as he closes the door behind him, he reminds you that you only have 20 minutes left.    
•  You close the dozen or so tabs that keep distracting you and return to your half-written blog post.  Reading through it, you realize that it's going to take a lot longer than 20 minutes to finish, so you decide to save it for another day.  (When you have more time to write.)
•  You wonder what other half-written posts you have hiding in your drafts folder and check to see if there's one you could finish in the next 17 minutes. 
•  You discover a draft with a list of distractions that keep you from writing and realize that not much has changed in the last year since you wrote it. 
•  Inspired, you find yourself typing like crazy.
•  20 minutes later you hit "Publish" and hope it serves as a daily reminder of How Not to Write a Blog Post.  

The End.

 Post inspired by Mama Kat's World Famous Writer's Workshop.  I chose prompt #4: Blast from the Past: What were you writing about last year at this time? Tell us what has changed (if anything) since then.

A Christmas wish....

You know that song sung by little, rosy-cheeked kids who have started to lose their baby teeth, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth"?  Well, for me it's no longer just a cute Christmas song.  It's more of a reality and a Christmas wish, except I've had to change the words slightly to, "All I want for Christmas is to keep my two front teeth and the few teeth I have left."

Yes, you guessed it!  My tooth telenovela has yet another chapter.

It all started a couple of nights ago when I dreamed that two of my molars suddenly crumbled into hundreds of little pieces and that it took me forever to spit them all out.  Well aware of my past tooth troubles and my history of psychic dreams, I feared that my dream meant more tooth troubles were in my immediate future.  I was mortified.

To help ease my fears, I turned to my friends on Facebook and asked them to help interpret my dream.  The general consensus was that it was a common nightmare that meant I was either stressed or self conscious or that maybe I wasn't saying what was on my mind.  All of the interpretations made perfect sense to me, because life has been extremely hectic the last couple of weeks with the increased workload in Hubby's shop, Nick's recurring problems with his asthma, which resulted in me getting only 4 or 5 hours of sleep at night if I was lucky, all while trying to keep up with my responsibilities as a stay-at-home wife and mom.

I continued to look for interpretations of my dream online and discovered that in Greek culture, dreaming of falling teeth means that a close friend or relative has fallen ill.  This also made sense to me, because I had just learned that one of my favorite aunts is very sick.

Then came Tuesday morning.  I was busy warming up for my Cardio Mop workout when all of a sudden I felt that familiar sharp, tingling pain shooting through my mouth.  As always, it came without warning and it came full force.  While I waited for the over-the-counter pain medication to work its magic, I screamed and cried out in pain.  Why? What did I do to deserve such pain and suffering?  Someone, please shoot me and put me out of my misery!

Just when I was contemplating which of Hubby's tools to use to pull out all of my teeth, the pain subsided and I was thinking clearly once again and I knew just what I had to do.

I can take a hint.  And completely ignore it.  Like when this tooth first started giving me trouble back in September.

I can take a second hint and completely ignore that one too.  In my defense, I was busy getting things ready for Nick's birthday party and really didn't have time for a root canal.

But this third hint?  It's true what they say...a la tercera es la vencida (third time's a charm).  I give up!  There is no way I want to go through all of this pain and suffering again.  So I went to my dentist that afternoon and had the first phase of my root canal done.  (I go back on Monday for more!)

I really hope I don't have to change the name of this blog to "Toothless in Mexico".