Favorite (part 1)

Going to grandma’s house is meant to be a happy occasion for children; I mean, they’ve written baby songs about it for goodness sake. Stereotypically, spending a day with grandma consists of baking cookies, watching Disney movies, reading stories, doing crafts, or having sleepovers; something every kid looks forward to. Mostly because grandmas are kind, fun, and going to their house is like a small vacation from parents.

                   This was never the case when I was a kid.

         I was the fourth grandchild on my father’s side (Tompkins side) of the family. My cousin Brooke was first, her sister Taylor second, my cousin Trevor third, then me - the third granddaughter.. I was different than my older cousins and was often treated as such by my grandma Tompkins.

                   That’s how I bring her up.

                   That’s how I set her apart from my gram - my mom’s mom.

                   No, my grandma Tompkins doesn’t have a cool nickname - not mem, nana, noni, mim, or even G-ma.

                   Just grandma.

         My cousins and I are pretty close in age so by the time I came along my grandma was already taking care of three young ones. To make things easier on my grandma, my mother would drop me off at a babysitter or let her mom (my gram) watch me. This was convenient since I could easily attend the preschool in the area with my childhood friend, Becca. It was Becca’s “meme” Dolly that babysat me during this time. What I find funny is that Dolly and my gram are good friends, even sharing a driveway and if need be, my gram could easily come get me. Even today, if I needed something or someone, I know I can always count on my gram.

         The summers during my grade school years were something I always dreaded. Since my gram was still working at the time, my mother would take me to my grandma Tompkins since she only lived (under) a minute from my house. After my mother would drop my little sister and I off at my grandma’s, I would run over to the bank near the road to watch through the foliage as she drove away - wishing she could just take me with her to work.

         When I couldn’t see her Explorer through the hot summers haze, I would turn around and drag myself into the house.

         Brooke was definitely the most dominate one out of the five of us. They were the ones to always come up with something to do. Most of the games we played were role-play. The most vivid role-plays I can remember were restaurant and school. These games took place in our grandma’s attic or in the small breezeway area that faced the road and wrapped around a quarter of the house. The attic however offered more privacy and independence than the breezeway since it is so spacious - it was basically a third floor to the house. The attic door is like a secret passageway that was tucked into one of the guest bedrooms. Up there Brooke had complete reign of the rest of us - she was the boss and still is.

         When Brooke and Taylor came down to be babysat I could always expect us occupied. Brooke liked to keep us all busy and occupied for hours on end. If it wasn't role-play, we would go swimming in my grandma’s pool or go tubing in the creek across the road. Our grandma permitted whatever Brooke wanted to do. I cannot remember a time where my grandma prevented us from an activity - unless there was a summer thunderstorm coming, we wouldn’t be allowed to swim.

         During my single-digit years were when I would see a lot of Brooke and Taylor. They weren’t too close with their other grandma (their mother’s mother) as they were with our grandma Tompkins. Maybe my grandma knew this and strove to appease her two dearest granddaughters, and sometimes her only grandson Trevor. Grandma catered Brooke (and Taylor’s) every whim and always made sure the rest of us cooperated. Especially me.

~

         If Brooke wanted to play something in the attic and if I just didn’t feel up to it, grandma would keep me corralled in the living room.

         “You want to rest? Then rest.” She would say rather snippily. Then she would wander off while keeping a watchful eye on me.

         Staying in the room alone, I didn’t dare challenge her. At this point I’d rather go play just so I didn't have to be alone staring at white walls covered with family pictures. I knew if I tried, her stern and sturdy figure would charge me, herding me back into the room.

         Her tight curled hair with glasses framing cold brown eyes, and hard straight lined lips kept me from challenging her authority or her reason.

~

         Though we were all about the same age, my older cousins loved watching rated PG-13 (maybe even rated R) movies.

         For some reason, my young self had an absolute fear of abnormal and sinister movies. Even in my own home, if something on the television (it be a commercial or a movie) sounded unnatural, I would go ballistic and scream till my parents changed the channel. If my mother were watching the newer version of The Parent Trap starring Lindsay Lohan and the scene where the one twin, Hallie, booby-trapped her sister’s cabin came on, I would freak and bury my head. The giant fake spider that fell and the syrup the girls slipped in absolutely terrified me so my mother would have to flip the channel. Even today, my mother brings it up to entertain us with my ridiculous childhood antics. Now, if I see The Parent Trap is on TV, I watch it.

         When I was able to realize when my cousins were going to watch something scary, I would wander away. Maybe hide in the kitchen keeping close to my grandma, which annoyed her.

         “Why are you following me?” She would ask. Head bowed, I wouldn’t tell her about my fears knowing she’d say I’m ridiculous.

         At one point my parents confronted my grandma about the scary movies, probably because I was having nightmares. She became over bearing and listened to their requests religiously. If the cousins were going to watch something and I wanted to try to get over my fear by joining them, she would stop me.

         “You can’t watch that. Your parents said no scary movies.” She’d chirp, often. Why couldn’t she just keep them from watching those kinds of movies? Why couldn’t we all just find a movie we liked and watch it together?

~

         When my cousins wanted to get away from the house, they would take bikes from my grandpa’s milk house and go biking to the ponds. Usually, it was to picnic or just plainly to venture somewhere else. My parents didn't like the idea of me going biking with just my cousins on a public road without adults. Thus, they told my grandma.

         As my cousins grab their bikes and head out, I eagerly try to follow.

         “You are not allowed on the road. Your parents said there has to be an adult.”

         With me leading the way on the gritty road, trying to catch up to my cousins on foot, grandma in tow pushing my baby sister (at the time) in a stroller. There was no way I could catch up to them on foot and my cousins on wheels.

          I hated that she took her time. She knew how badly I wanted to join my cousins. Why did she let Brooke, Taylor, and Trevor go unsupervised? They were only a few years older than me. And my parents - didn’t they understand how badly I just wanted to have similar freedoms?

~

         My grandma has had the pool since my father was a kid. It’s a round pool with a boarded deck surrounding it and a ten-foot tall light blue slide. The pool is set up atop a small hill making it quite the hike. On the deck was a laundry basket filled with pool toys, goggles, and floaties (for me since I was still so short). Inflatable tubes and animals hogged deck-walking space. Also on the deck were plastic and fold out cushioned chairs that you can lay your whole body on, which Brooke often utilized to tan during her teenage years. She would only swim for a little bit then get out to sprawl on the cushions. If any of us splashed her or shot her with a squirt gun, she’d freak.

         One time, our grandma bought these foam boogie boards for the pool. They were all different colors - green, blue, yellow, and purple. Of course Brooke and Taylor got first pick. Brooke chose blue - my favorite color. The only color left in the end was yellow. I despised that boogie board. When Brooke or Taylor didn’t come down, I would use either the blue or purple. There was no one there to object an no one to tell grandma.

~

         My grandma even went as far as providing my cousins their favorite foods on a regular basis. One very specific meal I remember her making was Taylor’s favorite - shrimp Alfredo. Whenever Taylor was over that’s what we would always eat.

         Grandma would open the packaged Alfredo and boil it on the stove. Getting out the frozen shrimp, she’d place their little pink bodies in line on a pan and slide them into the oven. Once finished, she cut the pieces into the white-sauced and basil ridden Alfredo and serve it. This is how I grew sick of shrimp and Alfredo - can’t even remember the last time I ate it. However, Grilled Shrimp on the Barbie (an appetizer) at the Outback had sparked a new love for shrimp in me.

         If it wasn’t Alfredo, it was picnics - usually consisting of a long trek down the creek till we found a clearing on the bank. This process was often long and tedious especially with one of the girls, Brooke or Taylor, leading the way. The creek was cloudy and uneven. My short size made falling into a deep hole a natural fear. The scary movies of alien’s dragging people into golf course ponds had me utterly terrified something would grab me, submerging me into the murky water. Staying close to the bank, I stumbled and trudged through deep slimy silt. The critters of the creek had me paranoid. If a beetle, leech, horsefly, or spider happened to cross my path or land on me, I’d squeal and shake them off - often running up the creek, arms flailing and skin crawling.

         Once we made it to a choice spot, we would climb up the bank to settle down to eat in the dead leaves and pine needles. A picky child, my grandma would feed me butter bread while my cousins ate actual sandwiches. When they finished before me they would go back into the water to play. Struggling to force soggy butter bread past my mouth and down my throat, my grandma forced me to finish every last bite. Despite wanting to gag it back up.

         If my grandma made a supper where there was food I just didn’t like, she’d make me sit at the table till I finished my dinner. Often times, she’d make me sit there for hours till I ate every last bite or until she became tired of me just pushing my food around the plate. 

         Before middle school, I was a rather small skinny thing, most likely caused by my pickiness. Can’t really say that about myself now.