Once upon a time I wrote weekly letters to Grandpa Lester and Grandma Enola. They lived in New Orleans and they liked to hear stories about their Arizona grandkids. Cody and Holly provided ample material. Every. Single. Day. I kept copies of the letters I wrote and am putting together a book titled, “Stories About Me: As told by my Mother.” From time to time, these letters are posted here in TheUpstory.
She’s ready for her third birthday
Feb. 9, 1998
Holly Bug Oh-ron (her pronunciation), straggled out this morning looking like Phyllis Diller. And Cody, who was up and already having a Huge Pity Party about something, immediately took time out from his busy misery schedule to remind her about her birthday. She got cranked up right away.
(I made the mistake of telling Holly about her birthday, that she was going to be 3 and blah-blah-blah. Holly, unlike Cody, tends to latch on to an idea. When I did this with Cody he’d show interest each time I told him but not obsess over it. Holly is a different story. She’s totally in the birthday mode and is talking it up like mad. And her birthday is still 25 days away.)
But I had a Brilliant Idea and got Nana Aurora some cake mix, frosting, sprinkles and birthday candles to make cupcakes and decorate them and appease The Birthday Goddess.
Too much sugar? Or just being a b-o-y?
March 12, 1998
Code-ster has become quite the Norman Rockwell boy. If he had freckles, he’d be Tom Sawyer. He’s got sand in his shoes, string in his pocket, and dirt on his face. He’s got skinned knees and a perpetual cowlick.
Life is his own private party. Probably the best part about Cody is that he understands all of his Dad’s jokes.
When his kindergarten teacher talks about him her eyes tend to glaze over. Her sidekick, a teacher’s assistant whose name we don’t know (based on her looks and personality we call her Gladys Kravitz), used to question our nutritional program for Cody. “You must feed him a lot of sugar,” she’d say in a tone that suggested that was not a good thing.
One afternoon when I was doing the Parent Volunteer thing, I watched a herd of boys rolling on the floor, hooting and hollering. Gladys was watching, too.
Opportunity knocked and I sidled over to Gladys and said, in a tone usually reserved for grand jury indictments, “Is there sugar in the snacks that you’re feeding these kids?” Snork.
Taking an interest in times, dates, and birthdays
July 29, 1998
Well, I’m sitting here trying to hitch two consecutive thoughts together, which ain’t easy at this time of night. Brain cells are running real low.
But, be that as it may, we wanted to say a big, happy howdy and let you know we’re still alive and kickin’. Especially Holly. Hoo-boy! That girl never gets a minute’s rest. Or gives a minute’s rest.
She’s taken an interest in the time and quite often will ask me or Glenn, “What time is it?” And we’ll dutifully check our watches and tell her. Well, the other day she asks for the time and when I tell her she says, “What time is it in Noo Orlans?” So evidently, she’s grasped the concept of time zones. Or maybe she was just testing me.
Meanwhile, Cody is getting geared up for his birthday. He’s been in a gift-planning mode now for about a week. Unlike Holly who wants whatever pink-colored doll she sees on a TV commercial (lately it’s been the diving Barbie — just what I need staring me in the face: Perfect Figure Swimsuit Barbie) Cody wants whatever toy he used to have but broke or lost.
So, it’s a real circus. Holly, who is not only a clock watcher but a calendar freak, constantly wants to know what day Cody’s birthday will be as well as how old he’ll be. She now knows that four fingers and two thumbs is “how many” Cody will be.
Meanwhile, as she’s getting all this information processed, Cody is reciting his gift list to anyone within earshot.
Mother’s Day: I love Mom because …
May 1998
For Mother’s Day, Cody brought a heart home from school.
It had loving fill-in-the-blank thoughts: My Mom has ___ hair and ___ eyes. (He filled in “orange” and “red.” Interesting. Thought-provoking. Scary.)
One of the blanks really summed it all up. You know what a clean fiend I am, eh? I never did subscribe to the Sarah Gorby School of Housecleaning. My Mom may have used her living room to rehab wild animals and thus lived among critter beds, feeding pans, and furry chaos, but not me. I’ve never made any bones about the fact that I’d rather have a clean house than a hot meal.
Anyway, it appears that Cody has had some insights into this facet of Mom’s personality. For the sentence that said, “My Mom is special because ___” he filled in “because she cleans.”
She’s driving us nuts about her third birthday
March 16, 1998
St. Partrick’s Day is almost here and Holly will celebrate by turning 3. Threeeeee!
She has been singing the Happy Birthday Song, telling people it’s her birthday, and randomly shouting out “Happy Birthday.”
About three weeks ago Nana Aurora even made Holly cupcakes with pink frosting, sprinkles, and candles. Everyone sang Happy Birthday and Holly was quite pleased. Then at night, instead of saying “Good night” she said, “Happy Birthday, Mommy!”
The Upstory 