When the view from my kitchen sink looks like this:
I think about when it looked like this:
Photos from last summer’s flower gardens line the walls of my office/exercise room. It was my new offensive to stave off or at least ease Seasonal Affective Disorder. For awhile it worked better than doing nothing, which is what I usually did every winter other than grin and bear it, you know? But last Sunday, I was given a new weapon in my anti-SAD arsenal: Four little words uttered for the first time by g-baby Claire: “I love you, ‘Rammy.”
Just typing that gives me happy tears. Take THAT SAD!
Claire was here last Sunday for a sleepover. Cassie and I made the swap at 10 a.m. at a gas station in Kittanning. It was bitter cold and snowing, but somehow the sun was out. I guess it was winter’s version of a sun shower. Claire and I talked and sang all the way home, even though I didn’t catch 90 percent of what she said because she was in the back seat. Back in the day (yes, I’m going to be old for a moment), my kids were legally allowed to sit in their car seats in the front seat. I know, I know…air bags and all that. But how many accidents are caused by parents and grandparents looking at and fussing with kids in the back seat while driving? Probably an even accident swap, I’d guess.
We stopped at the grocery store for some Claire essentials: oranges (which she insists are peaches), yogurt, whole wheat elbow macaroni, orange juice, a potty seat attachment (she’s 99 percent potty trained), and stickers:
She puts them everywhere, obviously.
When we got home, we went to see Mew, the stray kitty who came to visit me one day in November when I was sitting on the porch. I couldn’t keep Mew because I had (at the time) three large dogs. But my next-door neighbor Paula adopted her and Claire’s been visiting ever since.
After dinner, Claire watched a Wow Wow Wubbzy DVD while Papa Larry watched the playoffs. Good thing I had dishes to do. When I was done, Claire wanted to listen to Old MacDonald and Jingle Bells. I found the least irritating renditions I could on YouTube, and Claire started to bounce her bum:
Before long it was bath time. After some ice cream and the book “Hop on Pop,” Claire headed to bed. I tucked her in and turned off the light. I laid down next to her and she told me all about snow trucks and mail trucks and big long choo choo tunnels. Not sure where that one came from since she’s never been on a train. Then, just before she went to sleep, she put her hands on my cheeks and pulled her face real close to mine and said, “I love you, ‘Rammy.”
In the history of all my happy moments – from the birth of my children to walking Cassie down the aisle – this one ranks right up there with the best moment ever. Ever, ever, ever.
AND…I have a real grandma name. Claire used to call me Mum because that’s what her mother and aunt call me, but now I’m ‘Rammy. And Claire loves me. SAD can kiss my arse.
I wonder what Luca will call me? It’s possible I’ll find out during the 2011 SAD cycle. It gives me hope.
SAD is a real and debilitating disorder. Do you suffer (or suspect you suffer) from Seasonal Affective Disorder? If so, what is your plan of action?