First off for those of you who aren’t of German descent Oma is short for Großmama or Grandma. Today was one of those days where everything was just a bit off. The Baby is sick, the dog woke the baby up from one nap, the cat another, the kitchen is a disaster area (I’m surprised FEMA hasn’t rolled up on me yet), and I overcooked the pork chops for dinner.
So I’m not on top of my game to begin with and here I am stooped over the tub doing the dishes (because of the aforementioned FEMA disaster of a kitchen) and BAM, I’m feeling sorry for myself! I had to take a deep breathe and ask my self WWOD (What Would Oma Do)? Now, I’ve got to tell you a bit of a story on this one so let me bore you for a moment (J/K this story is far from boring!!!). In the late winter of 1944/45 my friend’s Oma was a young mother in Germany (Eastern Germany to be exact), her husband was a POW of the Americans and cooling his heels in Texas while WW2 played out it’s final and most destructive Act. Oma had a hard decision to make, the Russians were starting to cross the frontier into Germany and would she stay in place and potentially suffer at the hands of them, or choose the road and the life of a Refugee. Oma packed up my friend’s father and whatever she could carry and set out on foot heading vaguely towards the Allied lines and hopefully some measure of safety. Now in this day and age I have a hard time trusting some 20 somethings to cross the street by themselves, and here was a young mother and wife out on the road and, caring for her baby all the while trying to stay ahead of an advancing Army, Hell bent on taking Berlin! It sort of has a movie quality about it when I actually read it. Now thankfully for Oma (and my friend too!), she made it into Western Germany and was able to safely cross Allied lines. After the war she was reunited with Opa and immigrated to the United States where they raised a family and lived a long and happy life together. Opa has been gone for about 10 years now but Oma is still going strong down in Florida.
Now how does a war time story tie back to me doing my dishes in the tub? Just as that little bit of “poor me” started to creep into my thinking I thought of Oma and WWOD? popped into my head. How could I complain when I thought about her? Sometimes you just need to put things into perspective I guess. So I sucked it up and promise not to have a pity party again!
Remember that tonight is your last chance to sign up to win the book I’ll be giving away
Affiliate Disclosure: I am grateful to be of service and bring you content free of charge. In order to do this, please note that when you click links and purchase items, in most (not all) cases I will receive a referral commission. Your support in purchasing through these links enables me to keep the content train rolling
Follow Us!