When I was ten years old, I came up with the creative (and thrifty) idea of making everyone ‘paperweights’ for Christmas. So yes, I ended giving everyone that year – as one obviously grateful person put it – “fucking painted rocks”.
Years and years later, after my beloved paternal grandmother died, I found the rock I had painted for her amongst her things. Yes, she had kept it for twenty years.
Moreover, it had evidently broken into into a number of pieces at some point and someone – most probably my grandfather – had carefully glued it back together.
It felt to me to be the ultimate display of grandparently love. Although, when I shared this story on twitter and admitted that we also discovered, upon my grandmother’s death, boxes and boxes filled with empty sandwich bags, some remarked that it could also be seen as the ultimate display of some kind of pathological hoarding disorder.
But what is love, except the pathological hoarding disorder of the heart, I say.
I have so many things around the house to remind me of all of my grandparents and, as my post on the demise of my grandmother’s Kenwood Chef shows (see ‘K-Chef‘), the passing of every single one of them is like a small dagger in my heart.
A few months ago, one of the ceramic ‘love birds’ I inherited from my maternal Nanna, got smashed into a thousand million pieces by one of the boys (illegally) kicking a ball in the loungeroom. I was devastated. My husband immediately picked up the pieces, saying he would put it on his ‘to be fixed’ pile.
It was at this point, I really cried. You see, “going on the ‘to be fixed’ pile” is generally a gentle euphemism for “going straight to the bin”, used to sooth the tears of a small child whose ‘favouritest’ plastic McCrappy toy has been chewed like so much puppy chewing gum.
But a few weeks later, I was rummaging through my husband’s top drawer to find change (for the lunch order bags, what else?) when I found it. There, carefully placed and tied up in a plastic bag, was my shattered love bird, really waiting to be fixed.
And it made me grateful that I had such a husband and such grandparents and such a life.
Merry Christmas, everyone. May you all give – and receive – wonderful gifts this Christmas. And may nobody give you a “fucking painted rock”.
Painted xmas rocks – now there’s an idea for next year’s xmas cards – you can just fling them at people rather than going to the expense of posting them – Happy Xmas NDM!
lol, I love your thinking……
If it’s made with love then I’ll take a ‘fucking painted rock’ any day….
I have lovingly baked biscuits this year for my parents, because I no longer know what to buy them. And they always say that when something is cooked/baked with love then it looks and tastes wonderful…
Have a wonderful Christmas and lots of love-filled presents.
Dorothy
Nawwww … I heart you.
NDM – you rock!!!! xxx
Thanks NDM, I feel my Christmas spirit returning. xxx
Awwww, such heartfelt writing at this time of the year, when I think about Floating Islands, Chocolate Nut Cakes and the amazing Estonian joys of cooking I experienced! And also a few old treats from your blog which share the Ema love and baking stories! (love the K-Chef knob story!)…I love that Ema and Isa kept your fucking painted rock….they were such sweet grandparents! Thinking of them, especially at this time of the year. Happy Xmas, NDM! xoxox
NDM – Wishing you a very happy Christmas and thanks for all the laughs – may there be many more in 2011
Beautiful sentiment, NDM..!
Happy Christmas to you and yours
xo
You bring happy and sad tears to my eyes too, NDM. Love to you and yours this christmas. xxx Annie
I met your paternal grandparents once when your father was in Melbourne directing at The Melbourne Theatre Company. We were invited to dinner. Absolutely charming and delightful. I remember asking The Father and His Mother to speak in Estonian for me and they obliged with twinkles in their eyes. A wonderful evening – thanks for the memory. R.
Underneath that potty mouth, you’re all heart. Your boys are lucky to have you too. Have a lovely Chrissy. xo
NDM has a potty mouth? Who knew? Merry Christmas to the NDM family { that includes her adoring readers }, and looking forward to more hilarity in 2011 🙂
Thanks, NDM. This is the first Christmas in my 38 years that my grandmother won’t be around to share with us, so this post brought a (happy) tear to my eye. Happy Christmas to you all.
Love your work, NMD. Happy Chrimbo to you and yours. See you in 2011 for more fabulous rockin’ round the tree. x
Heartwarming reading and I’d be delighted if someone gave me an FPR…… 😉
Have a good one, whatever it is.
Merry Christmas NDM, as always, your posts have provided me with much needed laugher. Love, love, love your work 🙂 Now can you send me your address so that I can ship off this gorgeous hand painted rock 🙂 xxx
I love sentimental presents, my nan kept everything my mum, sister and I made. My mum has done the same, she has everything my sister and I have made, and everything my niece, nephew and Baba have made. Everyone has their own box, on top of the wardrobes that have our items in. I think it is lovely. Mr L thinks I am a bit mad, but he does not come from that kind off family.
Hope you had a lovely Christmas xxx
It’s a beautiful rock! I love it…
But if that “fucking painted rock” is from one of your kids, that would be awesome and saved forever.
My favouritest gift from my beach holiday this Christmas was a heart-shaped rock lovingly collected by my 8 year old daughter and decorated with texta with the words I love you on one side and Mummy on the other, surrounded by love hearts…….I know Ï’ll keep it forever.
“My Mother loves the sea
And my mother loves me!”
I still have my Sea Box! xx