UUHHH! Na-na-na-na.

15 Day Challenge, Day 4...

My nana ain't no ordinary grandma.

She is a tough lady – and doesn’t take crap from anyone. She loves to shop, and wears fabulous jewelry. Her closet is filled with shoeboxes. With shoes inside them.  And that means she is my kind of lady. My mother is under the realization that I am turning into HER mother.  Fabulous, I say.

They say (who is “they”?) that things skip a generation. Well, they must have as I think I am Nana Jr. As a child, I obviously thought some of these “Nana-isms” were incredibly unfair and underserved. Now as I deal with young students and start to work out my own parenting styles, my Nana has some good theories and strategies. 

I have never visited her home and walked in and seen her pull cookies out of the oven. (Kids are fat enough, they don’t need more treats.) She didn't pull me on her lap and tell me I was the most gifted child she had ever seen. (Because I surely wasn’t and kids don’t need to be told how fabulous they are when they clearly aren’t.) She didn't tell me I ever looked cute in my outfits that I put together at a young age (because they weren’t and I wasn’t the cutest child so it was double horrifying. Not “Awwww, she is so cute wearing that fuzzy red dog sweater and purple leggings!” Its “Ohhhh, what fresh hell are you wearing? You look absolutely horrible and ridiculous, put on something normal.”) 

 I will deliver to you a list of memories displaying such examples of “Nana-isms.”

Memory One: She stayed at our house while my parents went on vacation. I dressed myself for school. "What the hell are you wearing? Put something on that matches."

Memory Two: Out to the bakery for lunch. Dressed myself in a skirt that was probably too short. "Do you have to shave your pubes to wear a skirt like that?"

Memory Three: Got in some sort of argument that surely caused some sort of a dramatic teenage scene in a public arena. Got whacked over the head with a 50 pound purse. (Grandma purses are heavy. Apparently all grandmas carry bricks in their bags in case of the zombie apocalypse. Good work, grandmas, I’m hiding behind you when it finally hits.)

Memory Four: I clean up after dinner. My mother mentions, “See? It pays off eventually.” Nana replies with a witty, “It took all those years; I’m surprised I lived long enough to see it.” (She never throws in a straight up compliment. It’s always hidden behind something else, so you got to knife through the bad to get to the good. Can’t build you up TOO much, you get a big head.)

Memory Five: (This is the big one. I swelled with pride and realized I had finally made it as a successful adult in modern day society.) "You sure were a bratty kid. You always cheated at games. You turned out a lot better than what I had originally thought."

I love you too, Nana.