Taking the hard way...

     Today, I took the girls to meet with a friend at the mall. Things were going well, the girls were (for the most part) behaving. When it was time to leave, I told A she could pick out a book at the book store. She selected a Sophia the First book, which is one of the few princesses I don't entirely mind.
     Waiting in line to buy the book, A got out of our sit n stand stroller because she wanted to put the book on the counter. E started getting angry that A was allowed to walk around and yet she was stuck in the stroller like some kind of chump. Because of this, I asked A to get in the stroller and she could put the book on the counter from there. This is, apparently, where I went wrong. By avoiding a mini-tantrum from the 1 yr old, I inadvertently set into motion the beginning of a great, gigantic tantrum from the 5 yr old.
     After arguing with me (apparently she thought I thought she couldn't reach the counter without being in the stroller - and that was a direct threat to her ability to be a "big girl") we walk up to the counter and A chucks the goddamn book on the counter. Now, seeing as she is usually my good one (E throws things regularly), I was momentarily taken aback and thought it was an accident. But one look at her stubborn-set chin and fierce blue eyes told me that she'd done this deliberately. She was testing me.
     Game on.
     I pick the book off the counter and say, "If you don't apologize to the cashier, you will not be getting this book."
The waterworks started immediately. She grabs the book from my hand and tosses it on the counter again, while telling me that she won't apologize.
     At that moment, I had a decision to make. The tears were already here, the screams were likely on their way. I had a split-second to decide how I would handle this: Give in and buy the little brat her the book, or haul a very pissed off, very loud 5 yr old out to the car. Just glancing at the daring, almost menacing glare she shot me, gave me my answer.
     I calmly handed the book to the cashier, apologized and told him we wouldn't be buying the book. I'm not sure if he ever said anything. The screams had begun, and with them, came stomps on the stroller, mad words, and screeching pleas to let her say sorry so we could buy the book. As best I could, I ignored the disapproving looks from strangers as I pushed my stroller - complete with raging five year old.
     We got to the car, and A was still pissed at me. She got into the car and did the thing where the door didn't slam loud enough the first time so she kept opening it and slamming it shut again. After the third time, I put an end to that, too. We talked on the way home - after she'd calmed down - about her feelings at  the time of the incident, and how she felt afterwards.
     Now we're home, and I made she sure understood why she wasn't going to get the book. Not today. Not tomorrow. Perhaps not anytime in the near future. And as I recounted the story in my mind, I remembered the disapproving strangers and I questioned myself. Had I dealt with that scenario the "right" way? In the second I had to react and make a choice on how to deal with A and her 'tude, my first instinct had been to give in. Is that what I should've done? After all, it's only a book.
     But giving in would've been the easy thing to do. By giving into your child's tantrums, you're not only potentially creating a bigger problem for yourself, you're letting your kid down. Your job is to teach them how to function properly in society. To be considerate of others. To continue on and control your temper even if something doesn't go your way.
    So despite the judgmental glares and tsks of people I don't know, I stand by my choice. For my child's sake, I refrained from taking the easy way out. And I can only hope that, at the very least, she grew a little because of it. I know I have.

Goodbye

     Today, I said goodbye to my grandmother. Her passing was, all things considered, peaceful and love-filled. My sisters, mom and dad, aunt and uncle, and I were all present, in her room at the hospital as she took her final breath. I managed to say goodbye, though in reality, my mind hasn't quite grasped the full reality of it. "Goodbye" doesn't seem like the right word anyway. I will see her again, on another plane of existence. Or perhaps I'll encounter another who's been gifted with her reincarnated soul. In times like this, you can't help but wonder what happens when you leave this earth.
     Is there a place like heaven? So many religions speak of it, in so many different ways, that I can only hope it exists. Perhaps it's a separate plane. A place where you're full of knowledge and understanding. A place where you can watch your loved ones - the ones you left on the other side - as they go through their lives without you. If such a plane exists, I've no doubt that Gramma Esther and Grampa George are reuniting with joy. After being married for 54 years, and then apart for 9, I can only imagine their happiness at once again being together. Their relationship is one that has always inspired me and made me believe that true love exists. If ever there were soul mates, it was them.
     Gramma Esther had a severe stroke twenty years ago. I was only eight, so pretty much all I remember from that time is getting to the hospital in Pennsylvania and seeing my big, six-foot-something, ex-Marine of a Grampa cry. Something like that stays with you always, as did his eternal devotion to my grandmother. After the stroke, she had a lot of mobility issues. The stroke affected the left side of her brain, leaving her speech and motor skills gravely impacted. I remember (or perhaps just think I do from the stories I heard later in life) her wanting to die. She wanted to give up. But Grampa George was having none of that. He pushed her, every day, to try. I'm sure he got discouraged, but - like the fairy tales we once believed in but later grew too jaded to dare hope for - true love prevailed. His infinite patience left such a lasting impression on me. He and my Gramma Esther were soul mates; I've no doubts or questions about that. Even as he died, I know he worried for her.
     We all worried for her. In my mind, after the loss of a man who'd been your world for so long, I couldn't fathom her existence without him. Honestly, I thought that she'd give up and fade away from us. But damn if she didn't surprise me. She lived on, perhaps not enjoying every moment - as I often felt as though she was trapped in her own body - but she lived on to meet her great-granddaughters, which is not something everyone gets to experience. She appreciated everything we did for her - every time we visited, every gift we gave. She was loved - and I hope she always knew that and never questioned it.
     The end was mercifully quick. She went to the hospital 15 days ago, and something told me it would be her time soon. My mom and her sister stood by her, always vigilant, always making sure she got the best care. Her wishes prior to being admitted were clear. No extensive measures should be taken to preserve her life.     When I got there today, she was already gone. Not medically, but she wasn't in her body anymore. I have to believe that. I sensed her presence in the room, but when I looked at her, she wasn't my grandmother. Not Gramma Esther. Even with her physical limitations, she'd always had a Presence about her. She wasn't inside anymore.
     I like to credit her with some of my favorite personality traits I possess. Honesty, sometimes brutal honesty, is something I appreciate and admire. It's definitely an acquired taste, but Gramma Esther had it in spades and damn if I didn't love her all the more for it. Sometimes I felt she was the only voice of reason in a crazy, emotional family. She also saw humor in things most didn't - or couldn't. I loved that. Even the darkest days could have some sunshine if you looked hard enough.
     Their reunion must've been joyous. My grandmother, whole again, young and vibrant, embracing  her adoring husband after years of being apart physically. We will miss her here in our world, but I know she is where she's meant to be now.


***Sorry if this is scattered. I wrote it nearly 3 weeks ago, on the night of my grandmother's passing, and only just now am able to post - without editing.