Awards, Parties, and the Macarena (The Memoirs of Grandma)

I may not have been born into a well financed family or a family that has it all figured out, but I could almost argue that I was born into one of the most dysfunctional, yet hilarious families. Sometimes I have been asked if the stories I blog about or the stories I tell are made up, and they really aren't. Since the day I was born, many things have happened in my life that make for great stories.

Many people who know me on a more personal level have heard me tell countless numbers of stories about my grandmother and her hilarity. I didn't really realize how humorous she was when I was growing up, but looking back on it, the stories I have about her bring me to laughter. I find myself quoting her on my Facebook statuses or sending random texts to various people about things I hear her yell at the television. I am so fortunate to have her, and I am so glad she took me in after my mom passed away when I was nine. Not only is she entertaining, but she takes really good care of me and I love her.

With that being said, many people have requested that I blog about her. I decided to keep my readers happy, I would write about a few of the occasions that Grandma has made me laugh/smile/roll my eyes/stand with my mouth agape.

The most recent story took place just a few weeks ago. It was the last day of my spring break, and I was supposed to go to my little cousin's seventh birthday party. I really did not want to go because it would press me for time to get back to school, and I wasn't planning on going. However, that plan did not fly with Grandma, and one thing you learn right away is that Grandma will either trick and/or guilt you into doing what she wants you to do... especially if she knows your weakness.

Before I could even realize that my grandmother had tricked me into going to this party, I was already parking my car outside the building where the party was held. I saw that a lot of people were leaving, and I was happy because I figured this meant I wouldn't have to make conversation with everyone. I love people, and I love my family, but these occasions usually turn into competitions to see who is doing better. This was no exception. I gave my little cousin her card and present, then, I looked around to try to avoid conversation. One of my cousins offered me some cake. Not only did I gladly accept because I pretty much would marry cake if it asked for my hand in marriage, but I wanted to cram my mouth full in order to seem repulsive to anyone who would think it was a good idea to talk to me. Despite my attempts to look like a deranged pig as I stuffed my mouth full to avoid conversation, my aunt still decided that chatting with me was a necessity.

Her attempts to pry into my life only so she could one-up me with stories about how my amazing, younger cousin is better than me finally ended and everyone started to leave. The same cousin that offered me cake handed me more cake. However, my cousin made it clear that I was not to eat this (probably because of how I ate my first piece like I was starved, even though I wasn't) and to take it to my grandmother since she couldn't make it.

Annoyed with the whole ordeal, I returned home with the cake. I was ready to unwind and tell my grandma about how I really didn't want to go to anymore of their parties. My grandma had always been so caring and supported me in my decisions to not do things I did not enjoy.

As I walked in the door, there my grandmother was waiting with what I assumed to be comfort and a listening ear.

All attempts of ever not going to a party again flew out the window. As long as I went and was able to bring home cake, it meant she did not have to go.

Going back to the idea of how my family can be narcissistic and try to one-up people, it has always made me uncomfortable. Not only does the whole idea seem a little immature to me, but if we're being honest, I don't really do much that would defend me against the stories of how awesome my cousins are at sports or anything like that. Therefore, I try to steer away from the competition. That's not so much the case for Grandma. She is VERY willing to brag for me in my place. It has been a little odd at times to watch her brag to our mailman about how I made Dean's List or something like that.

Naturally, when I received a letter my junior year of high school to attend an award's ceremony at our school, my grandmother was thrilled and insisted we attend. The catch was they didn't tell us what award I would receive. I, for the life of me, could not figure out what award it would be.

The night of the award ceremony, I sat front row with my grandma and a couple other of my friends who were getting awards. The ceremony progressed and on one of the very last awards, I was called to receive a letter for holding an "A" in all of my music classes for six consecutive semesters with my friends and about twenty other individuals. Excited that I received the award, I returned to my seat, only to see my grandmother with an unimpressed look on her face. I figured maybe she didn't understand what just happened, so I decided to explain.

A year later, we received another letter for the award ceremony. I was a lot more enthusiastic about this one, and I had a better feeling because my grades my senior year had truly been outstanding. Grandma did not want to sit through the award ceremony again if it was going to be like last year. I assured her I couldn't get that award after I had already earned it once, so she reluctantly agreed to go with me.

My gut feeling was right. My digital photography teacher walked across the stage and up to the podium. She announced my name for her outstanding photography student. This was a big deal to me. I had never attempted photography before that year. No one in my family knew that this was a talent I possessed... I didn't even know I possessed it. I came back to my seat with my award smiling. I knew my grandmother would have to be happy this time. She saw all of the work I had put into my giant photography project. But, when I returned, she had the same look she had last year. Once again, I decided to explain what just happened.

In all fairness, I did get a pretty decent award later on that night. I don't really remember what it was exactly. It was for seniors who completed a certain variety of courses and obtained honorable grades or something like that. Only a handful of seniors got it, so my grandma was impressed with that. Not sure why when I was the ONLY ONE who got the photography award.

My all time FAVORITE story about my grandmother takes place when I was a young girl. My elementary school was quite interesting in the fact that every year in gym class, we would have sessions on dancing. We didn't really learn anything in particular. We would try to learn the Twist, but we would just dance around in a crazy fashion. The real goal was to get the girls and boys to be okay with dancing with each other by the time fifth grade rolled around because that is when school dances started.

This particular story takes place at the end of first grade. I was six-years-old and being babysat by my grandma while my mom worked. I had just finished a day of school, got off the bus, and walked inside with my grandma. As usual, she asked me what I had learned in school. I usually never remembered a whole lot of what I had learned, but I knew if I could distract Grandma with one thing I learned, she wouldn't ask me anymore. I decided that since my grandmother loved dancing, I had my key to not being questioned anymore.

Who was I? A six-year-old to argue with her grandmother about how to do the Macarena? She was having so much fun doing it her own special way, and I knew she was more than likely not going to listen to me. Plus, if I was nice about it, she wouldn't ask me to recall anything else I learned. I let her do her own thing thinking that it couldn't do any harm.

A few weeks later, it was the end of the year, and with the end of the school year comes my birthday. I had recently moved from roller skating to rollerblading, so my mom had decided to have my birthday party at the roller rink. Everything was going great. It was the best birthday party a now seven-year-old could ask for... until the dance contests started. At first, they seemed harmless with the Chicken Dance and the Hokey Pokey. Then, it happened.

I thought maybe she didn't hear it. I prayed that old age had played against her listening function, but to my horror it didn't. When I looked over, I saw my grandmother bolting (this is the only time I have seen my grandmother bolt, by the way) right towards me.

I swallowed my pride and decided if questioned by my friends, I would deny any responsibility for her actions.

 

For approximately the next three minutes this process was repeated. I did my best to ignore it since this was the ONE contest that would be judged for a winner. I could not let my grandma ruin my focus. I would win this!

The dance ended, and I could not believe what followed. My mouth literally dropped to the floor when my grandma was announced the winner.

Now, I would like to say I learned my humility and modesty from my grandma. However, that is not what I learned from her. What I learned from my grandma is to make people laugh and when you're old you can brag and get away with anything. Therefore, I would like to tell you my grandma accepted this award in the most humble manner, but Grandma also taught me honesty.

There you have it. Just a few instances that show how my grandma brings a smile to my face. I really do love her, and I do not know what I would do without her. Here's to you, Grandma! I love you more than life itself and thanks for everything!