Little Squeaker

My grandma has been gone now for over 2 years.  I think about her a lot and often associate the memories I have of her with random things that happen throughout my day or week.  Her birthday was on Sunday so I thought of her then and then again yesterday when I got my days confused and thought that yesterday was June 3rd when it was really the 4th.  I'm sure grandma appreciated my mistake because it meant that she received extra attention from me. 

I remember when I was a teenager and my brothers would go to grandma's house to help out around the house or yard.  Sometimes they would mow the lawn.  She would always have plenty of ice cold soda, chips, and candy so that a long days work was always well worth it.  But one of my favorite memories about those work related visits is that old age had certainly started taking it's toll on grandma, as it does on everyone (including those of us in our 30's), so often times when she would bend over or pick something up her bodily functions would get the best of her and little farts would escape.  She always continued on with whatever she was doing never drawing attention to her gas mishaps.  I assume that was because she was either embarrassed and wanted to pretend that she hadn't just farted in front her grandson or her unexpected flatulence was as much a part of her routine as breathing. 

Some of my memories of grandma are created simply by drinking an ice cold Diet Coke or eating stale Easter candy at Christmastime.  But in recent months it's my big over sized belly and irregular digestive system that seem to take me down memory lane.  If I move just right or bend to pick something up, this baby bump creates enough force to cause an occasional unwanted slider.  Most of the time I don't mind.  As long as I'm at home doing laundry, who cares?  No one is the wiser because there are no witnesses.  However, last week I was tucking the kids into bed.  Something itched my funny bone and I walked into the family room to tell Mr. Handsome.  The more I talked the harder I laughed.  The harder I laughed the more aware I was that if I moved a muscle I would set off a firework display of pregnancy flatulence.  So I held firm, butt cheeks clinched, and stood still.  When I had regained my composure and felt confident that it was safe to move, I turned to walk down the hallway.  With my first step, out snuck a little squeaker.  I started laughing again, especially when I turned to see the disgusted look on Handsome's face.  I took another step.  Another fart.  I laughed harder.  More farts.  And so the cycle continued until I was laughing so hard that I had tears rolling down my face and was completely void of excess gas.  Handsome said, "Wow!  Pregnancy robs you of all dignity doesn't it?"  Why, yes, Handsome.  It sure does. 

So truth be told, grandma couldn't help it when those little squeakers would escape.  Heck, I sure can't.  And so, yes, I think about grandma randomly throughout the day and it makes me laugh every time and that laughter often inflicts another "memory".  It's kind of sad that it is farting that instantly triggers those childhood memories of grandma.  But either way, she is always on my mind and close to my heart.

I sure love ya, grandma!