🧠 What Will My Grandkids Remember About Me?

Memory is a funny thing.

My brother swears he saw Grandpa Sweet put peanut butter and sugar on a pancake, shove it in his pocket, and walk outside like that was a totally normal snack decision. I don’t remember that. Maybe I wasn’t there. Or maybe my brain just went, “Nope, we’re not holding on to that one.” Funny how one person remembers something so clearly and someone else doesn’t at all.

I have no idea what my grandkids will remember about me—but I can take a few guesses.

🏡 The Trailer That Became Home

Most of them will remember this trailer, because we’ve lived here so long it’s the only place they associate with us. This has always been “Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” even if it’s on wheels. It’s not exactly big, but it’s full of love—and holiday chaos.

I’m sure they’ll remember all the holiday meals crammed into this tiny space. Over the years, as the kids got taller and the grandkids multiplied, the walls seemed to close in. Chairs were pulled in from everywhere, elbows knocked, plates balanced on laps, and someone was always in the way of the fridge. But we made it work, and those meals? Those are part of our story.

🌱 Sprinklers, Recliners, and Blanket Legs

The older ones will remember living in the trailer next door and running through the sprinklers in the grass between the two yards. That patch of lawn got a workout every summer. Barefoot races, wet towels on the porch, kids laughing—that’s the soundtrack of those days.

And I bet they’ll all remember Grandma sitting in her recliner with a blanket over her legs—no matter what the weather was doing outside. Summer? Blanket. Winter? Blanket. Heat wave? Still blanket. Hey, comfort is comfort.

🍪 Cookies, Fruit, and Kitchen Rules

Mea will remember fruit and cookies. That girl walks in the door and immediately asks what I’ve got. She knows Grandma usually has something, even if it’s just a cookie hidden behind the bread box.

They’ll all remember the rule: if you’re eating, you stay in the kitchen. No exceptions. (Well, unless it’s a holiday—then the rule becomes “Just try not to spill gravy on the recliner.”)

♠️ Cribbage and Kitchen-Table Math

Crib has been a teaching tool around here. We’ve used it to sneak math lessons into game time, and most of them never even noticed. That crib board has a permanent home in the middle of my kitchen table, and I think it always will. It’s been part of more conversations and life lessons than I can count.

🍽️ What I Won’t Be Remembered For

I’ll tell you one thing they definitely won’t remember: Grandma being a great cook. Nope. That is not part of the legacy. If they got fed at my house, it was probably because Grandpa cooked it or they brought snacks with them. I never claimed to be Betty Crocker, and nobody's writing home about my sandwiches.

🪙 Penny Games, Crayon Drawers, and TV Props

They’ll remember the penny game Les made. It’s so simple that even the littlest ones can play it, and you can have a whole crowd join in. It’s become one of our go-to family games, and it lives in the “fun drawer”—every home has one.

Keira knows exactly which drawer holds the crayons and the paper for drawing. That’s her favorite spot. She doesn’t even ask—she just heads straight to it like a little artist on a mission.

And then there’s Thane. He knows exactly where to find the roller Grandpa uses to stretch out his back. But Thane doesn’t stretch—he sits on it to watch TV, or kicks it all over the kitchen like it’s a soccer ball. It’s a back roller-slash-kid toy now, apparently.

💛 My Hope: A Grandma Who Loved Loud and Laughed Often

I don’t know how they’ll remember me exactly, and honestly, that’s okay. I just hope they remember that I loved them. That I made them laugh. That I never judged them, no matter what they said or did. I hope they remember that Grandma saw each of them as their own person—because they are. And because of that, they were treated a little differently. That’s not favoritism—that’s love customized to fit.

So no, they won’t say, “Wow, Grandma sure could cook.” But maybe—just maybe—they’ll remember a full house, a warm blanket, an open drawer of crayons, and a grandma who always had time for a laugh and a cookie.

Unless it was my last cookie. Then all bets are off.

🍩 Wanda-ism: “I may not leave behind recipes, but I sure left behind stories.”

Pull up a chair. I’ve got a story.