Grandma Krazy | Kathy Blomquist
When one of my grandkids calledme Grandma Krazy everyone decided it was a good �t and it became my new name. As Kathy Barnett Blomquist, I look at my family andmy life and I have toagree. GrandmaKrazy �tsme. I have 9 children, 14 grandchildren and over 100 children I have fostered. Two of my childrenwere adopted from foster care. I havewillingly lived in the chaos of kids in trauma, kids with addictions and mental illnesses, kids who lie and steal and have food issues. I have dealt with police, principals, caseworkers, therapists, child services, juvenile justice centers and courts. Hardest of all was thedeathof two children.
I did thisonpurpose. Somaybe I amKrazy……orAmI?
Muchbigger than the chaos is the joy the kids have broughtme. I am so blessed to have them inmy life. The childrenwho havemoved on to adulthood, bio and foster, are amazing parents, successful citizens and successful in their careers. Some are still in college and some are still at homebut they are all doinggood things. I get to be part of this. I get to watch them grow and blossom, succeed and fail and try again. I watch them being great parents. I get to hear their own sweet children call me Grandma Krazy! Those sweet little voices saying I love you, grandma. Then there are the bigger voices who call me mom. Some are biologically mine. Some are legally mine. Some have become mine by choice. There is nothing more rewarding or wonderful than hearing them call me mom. I love and am very proud of all of my kids and grandkids no matter howtheybecamemine.
Krazy?Krazy likea fox, perhaps!
I have fond memories of when I was a young child �lled with the wonder and merriment of the Christmas season. My father was a popular DJ. From the news room he would get insights of where Santa was and when he would be in our area. My siblings and I bubbled over in excitement that kept us awake all night. Around 5amwe couldwait no longer.Wewere sure our parents had enough sleep by then. After opening our gifts we would gather with friends and go from home to home to see what Santa had brought. Then it was off to my grandma's for Christmas breakfast. Santa usually left something there for us as well. We were never sure of this because each year my grandfather would wait up for Santa so he could tackle him to the ground and shave off his beard. Every year the �rst thingwe sawwas Santa's beard hangingon the door. Thatmay have something todowithbeingabit on theKrazy side .Whoknows?
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EC Magazine | Christmas Edition 2019
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