My mother read my blog and, taking exception to the part about being "old", she wrote her own little take on the matter, which I thought was a little on the humorous side so I'm publishing it (with her permission, of course) for your enjoyment.
I love my daughter. It’s been…… interesting? Listening to her grow older. Really. Her voice sounds the same, though, but now – every time I look in the mirror I see her. We really don’t look that much alike, however, we do seem to think a lot alike on some issues. Parenting, home decorating, and our BIG ideas and plans for businesses! It’s very interesting that we both have the same views on these things.
When she was little, she was this young and vibrant thing – a real chatterbox, she was. I’ll never forget the time we were all in the car going on vacation, and she was just chattering away non stop talk, so her dad and I asked her to be quiet for five minutes. She thought that was real fun, and she spent the next ten minutes telling us how quiet she was being!
This is my daughter! She was always a free thinker and a free doer even at the tender age of five. She kept me a bit more than occupied, but I kept one step ahead of her, giving thanks to my own Mother who always had the right answers.
I recently purchased for myself some new underwear, and (it seems to be something I do regularly, probably because before I got married, one of my friends told me to get all the underwear I’ll ever need right now, because for some reason wives never seem to get enough underwear after marriage) so I have it set in my mind to always buy new underwear often. (Not a bad habit to have).
So recently, within maybe three or four months back, while we were making good use of Alexander Graham Bell’s invention of the telephone, I asked her what size panties she wore, and that I would toss in a few new pairs in the package I was sending her. My question seemed to take her aback as she didn’t have any idea what size she wore. She said it was so long since she bought them – she apparently never made it a priority to buy them.
Now she tells me they are called “granny panties”, a term I had never heard of before. Granny panties makes me sound really old, especially since they fit her so perfectly.
Now she knows how I knew that she needed them. The motherly secret? Is that we listen and we remember. So go ahead and freak out your own offspring. Maybe someday they will write something about their mother too.
(My next topic is how the toilet paper in my sister in law’s linen closet got me started on another habit of interest, but you’ll have to read that some other time on my blog when I get it going.)
Sandra says: Granny panties are called that because of their cut and has nothing to do with the age of the wearer; but since my mother and I are both grannies, I guess the name is befitting.