Well, it is official, the shower invitations have been sent out and some RSVPs have even been received. It is pretty crazy to think that, in less than three weeks (THREE WEEKS!) we will be having a baby shower (A BABY SHOWER!).  MB and I have been pretty good at pretending that we are not parents-to-be and that we are just highly boring individuals who can never, ever have any alcohol. It still doesn’t really feel real. But there it is, right around the corner. Imma have a baby, y’all.

Holy crap.

I have had a lot of fun picking out outfits and furniture (even though we are trying to keep things to a minimum until we make the big move which will most likely happen in August) and learning about how other moms’ experiences have been.  I never really thought that I would be reading articles (or blogs) about parenthood or posting about diapers but here we are. 27 weeks along and ready to start a whole new journey. I can’t help but feel a little bit lost about the whole thing though. I guess a lot of women can use this time to bond with their mothers over parenting and all that jazz (which, don’t get me wrong, I guess I am doing, but I have never been all that close with my mom and, well…it is all very new to me). This is exactly the kind of experience I would have wanted to share with my grandmother. She died on my 23rd birthday, so she has been gone a long time, but her absence takes away a lot of the excitememnt for me. I would have loved for her to be here to help me prepare for and to meet her first great-grandchild. I would have loved for my child to experience the same kind of love and…gosh, there are no words for the kind of beauty she brought to be…I won’t even try to explain all of that. I will just say that, holy crap, she would have been so excited. And my baby would have been so lucky to have met her. She just had a way of making me…better…and I try to remember her as often as I can to remind MYSELF to be a good person. And a good friend. And just…overall good. I really hope I can instill this in my child. I have a going list of things that I want to pass down. That I feel I need to pass down.

1. Lefse. My grandparents were both full Norwegian and when I was very young, my grandma taught me how to make lefse and it was my FAVORITE THING EVER. I learned, after my grandfather passed and the family was together for the first time in years, that, not only was I the only grandchild that she ever taught to make it, she never even taught her own kids. (Two of whom are actual chefs!) So, yeah, I was totally her favorite.

2. Humility. My grandparents were poor. They worked as missionaries in New Guinnea when their first three children were small. They were Christians and they were damn good at being Christians. (I’m not gonna lie, internet, the mere mention of Christianity makes me cringe because I…well…am not a fan of religion at all…)  They were the kind of people who were respectful of everyone. And genuinely LOVING to everyone. EVERYONE. My grandmother would have given the shirt off her back. She helped whomever should could, whenever and with whatever resources she had. I definitely was raised, (mostly by my grandparents) in an environment RICH with love. They showed me the true meaning of agape.

3. Sense of worth. My parents weren’t really all that accessible when I was a kid. My dad wasn’t around and my mom worked full-time to support herself, my sister and I. And when she wasn’t working, she was partying. Luckily for us kids, our grandparents moved all the way across the country when our parents decided to move to Florida and became our caretakers when our parents weren’t.  I can’t speak for my sister, but I can say that I never really got any positive reinforcements from my mom. That I was smart. That I was pretty. That I was a worthwhile person. (I was informed, much of the time, that I was getting fat or things of that nature, but…you know…) My grandma, on the other hand, made me feel like a rock star. And not because she was a liar, but because she saw those things in me. She believed in me, like, for real.  I need to make sure, more importantly than all else, that my daughter knows she is SO. FUCKING. SPECIAL. And so loved. And that she can do whatever she wants to do. And it doesn’t matter if her nose is pointy or she has freckles. Or if her ass is a little big (which she would have inherited from her mother), she is amazing. And she is worthwhile. And the world is hers.  I want to make sure she knows I am her biggest fan.

Yesterday was my grandma’s birthday. I’m a little sappy about it. I miss her. She was my hero. I just hope I can make her proud.