Thank you sweet baby jesus.
Tonight I went to see Pitch Perfect (side note, for a music nerd like me it was aca-awesome). As the previews began, a woman walked into the theatre with her husband, pushing a stroller. At first I thought “meh, I’ve seen people bring newborns to a movie, they sleep through the whole thing. happened at batman”. Whoaaa no. This woman had a 4-5 year old child. The child walked around, talked, shouted, and cried the whole time. This film was PG-13. Plenty of rough language. This kid repeated several lines verbatim, surely she would have no qualms repeating “horse shit” (hilarious in the context of the film). At one point, the child stands up and points to the screen stating “mommy, I do not love this show”. Ma’am, clearly your child doesn’t want to be there. Why force us to hang out with her?
Let me be upfront for a moment. I pitch in far more than the average live-at-home-at-24 daughter. I freely and willingly do a heck of a lot around the house. I provide entertainment and sometimes keep both of my parents sane. I sacrifice my lunch hour to drive home and take the dogs out whenever my mother can’t do it. When the go on vacation, I’m expected to be the house sitter and mind the dogs. They are far more maintenance than any animals I have ever witnessed.
However, I am still a mere peon in the business world. My perks and benefits are few and far between. So when I’m given permission to leave work early, I intend on taking full advantage of that time I’m given. Unfortunately, I was not able to take any bit of that time off for my own benefit. I was told today I could leave at 3pm, two hours early- this is unheard of. But, oh shucks, my parents are at the lake- and our AC unit needs repairs. So, instead of my parents staying at home during the week, they take off for the lake. My parents. Who have unlimited time off. They can’t be bothered to stay one extra day, during the week, it’s not even the weekend, to hang out around the house and make sure the AC is fixed. So here I am. it’s 5pm, the time I would usually be leaving the office. This time any other week I would be heading to the lake. I could have left TWO HOURS AGO. But nope, I need to pitch in and sit on my ass and wait.
Sooo let me be clear here. I’m not thankful that I have IgA deficiency. However, I’m glad that I know about it and there are doctors who understand what the heck I’m talking about. Having a colonoscopy at age 20 is less than ideal, but after having a sorority sister diagnosed with cancer after a colonoscopy, I’m willing to take any and all precautions when it comes to my intestinal system. The sinus infections blow, but ya know what? It’s better knowing how to deal with it than suffering for months at a time like I did in lower school. I’m thankful for all of my doctors. I’m thankful for the nice pharmacist at CVS who knows I’m not getting mass amounts of Mucinex just to make meth. I’m thankful for Emergen-C and my gummy vites that keep me healthy most of the time.
I’m so thankful for my house. My home. Not just the roof over my head, but the warm feeling that comes with it. I may be 23 and living with my parents, but I still feel welcome. It’s still my home, not just my parents’.
To my friends who still have grandparents living, I implore you, CHERISH THEM.
I have one remaining grandparent, my dear darling Nana. She is 94 now, and after multiple strokes, is wheelchair bound and has very little short term memory. She knows who we are, God bless her, but has to be reminded which grandchild belongs to who. We lost my Papa two years ago last month, who was battling with dementia. After his last stroke, I went with my mom to take him from the rehab facility back to the nursing home where he and Nana lived. He rode in the front seat. When we got to the nursing home, I hopped out and opened his door and helped him get out of the seat belt. He looked at me and asked “Do you work here?” That was the first time he really had no idea who I was. I knew that moment was coming, I just didn’t think it would ever actually happen. This is my cousin Betsy and Nana and Papa at our last thanksgiving with them together.
My paternal grandparents, Donna and Papa Chal, were so much fun to spend time with. They took me to Disney World for the first (and currently, only) time. Donna taught me to sing, and LOUD.
We lost Papa to cancer when I was in High School- which got me involved in Relay for Life on a much more personal level. He was in Hospice towards the end, and I didn’t really understand what that meant at the time. Donna fell at home and hit her head when I was home after sophomore year of college. My mom and I were visiting Nana and Papa at the nursing home when Dad called Mom’s cell. I answered, quite exasperated that we had told him where we were and that we would be home soon. He said to come to the ER. There was nothing anyone could do, the ventilator was the only thing keeping her with us. This was the only time I ever had to say goodbye to someone knowing I’d never see them again. It was terrible, and I miss her all the time. When they turned it off, she stayed with us for over a week. Donna was a fighter.
I didn’t mean for this to be so depressing, but I want to instill the importance of grandparents. I wish I had spent more time with them, asked more questions, listened more. Please, Please, to anyone reading this: take advantage of the grandparents you have. I miss mine.
I could litter this post with umpteen million photos of my family. We have enough of them. What I want to get across in this “Letter F” post is how important my family is to me. I live at home, yes, at age 23. There is no question to this, however. My parents are great roomies, and I’d be pretty bored if I lived by myself. Going beyond the parentals, my sister is one of my biggest influences in my life.
We’re very different, and yet we’re absurdly similar. Whenever I talk to her, I always feel like there’s so much I want to talk about, and yet it all comes out as garbled movie quotes and silly inside jokes. I’m always so excited for her to come home, and haaaate how far away she is. If she weren’t so darn happy in Boston, I’d be on her case to come home more often.