It was in January of 2012 that my sibs and I worked together with my niece and her husband to put ourselves on a schedule so that someone would always be at home with my mom – which unfortunately did not always work out.
We would keep in touch by phone and sending the same email to our group so that we could all kind of keep track of what was going on. It wasn’t until November when Nate decided to create a group page on facebook. He gave it the name “Operation Grandma Care”. We started out with Six members and gradually we became Nine.
The site was up for less than three months before we had moved my mom into assisted living. I don’t know when Nate removed himself from the group but it couldn’t have been more than eight months after he’d created the site. Nevertheless the seven of us that remained continued to keep tabs on one another, supply information and make inquiries.
Pictures we posted and Sunny even posted a video which shows my mom singing three songs. What a treasure that is! I am so grateful to Nate for having created the site for us.
After my mom passed away less than five months ago, we decided we would keep the site but we changed the name. Well, Kayla did. Operation was dropped and an S was added to make “Grandma Cares” It’s funny that the site contains only one grandchild.
We kept it in order to share stories and photos and memories of mom but also of dad and our family. Corey will periodically post discoveries he has made while going through her journals. Yesterday I posted one of Jenna’s favorite stories that only Patrick and I had experienced. (Fortunately for Corey and Kayla they both missed out)
True story: In searching for creative ways to economize, Salt Lake Tribune had a featured area of suggestions and recipes. My mom tried one called “Peanut Butter Casserole” the very idea of putting tomatoes, onions and peanut butter together would make my nose turn – but now that I’ve tasted it, I can honestly say the idea makes me puke.
Mom decided to go heavy on the peanut butter – which I have no way of knowing weather it improved or hindered the taste. My brother Patrick thought it was the grossest thing ever. He had had only one bite and figured out what the ingredients were and pulled away from the table as though he had been bitten.
I remember finding the recipe that mom had so carefully cut out of the paper. I tore it to bits and distributed only a few pieces into each trash can we had in the house. Mom wasn’t good at puzzles. She would never be able to put it back together if she wanted to. But she too, admitted it was bad.
I didn’t realize until my neighbor commented on my post that she too had tortured her family with the yucky excuse for a meal. She, too, can testify to its awfulness. Now we can all laugh at the experience.