Grandma Farts: A Symphony of Sass and Stockings

Kathy Mattoon
Jul 9, 2025
4 min read

Some women age like fine wine. My Gramma? She aged like fireworks in church–bold, unapologetic, and guaranteed to leave a lasting impression. She could clear a room with a fart and fill it right back up with laughter, wisdom, and the kind of sass only earned through years of telling life exactly where it could shove it.

This one’s for the woman who wore her stockings like armor, dished out love and side-eye in equal measure, and reminded us all that being ladylike is overrated when you’ve got stories to tell and air to clear. Welcome to the symphony–equal parts brass, grace, and gas.

In this lighthearted and nostalgic post, Kathy takes readers on a walk down memory lane to her grandma’s house in the city – a place filled not with cookies or pies, but with laughter, love, and the unmistakable pfft-pfft soundtrack of Grandma’s every step. Through humorous recollections of tea times, Sunday dinners, and giggle-filled moments involving floral dresses and unexpected sound effects, Kathy reminds us that even in the midst of life’s pain and trauma, joy still lingers in the small, silly moments. “Grandma Farts” is a funny and uplifting tribute to the power of memory–and the kind of laughter that never fades.

Let’s take a walk down memory lane – careful, though, you might want to hold your nose.

Growing up in the country, visiting my grandma in the city was like going on a first-class vacation… if your luxury accommodations included plastic-covered furniture and a steady stream of… musical notes from the rear. That’s right – my grandma had a gift. And no, I’m not talking about baking cookies or crocheting blankets. I’m talking about her signature tune: The Grandma Fart.

Now, my mom was the queen of the kitchen – pies, cookies, roast beef dinners that made the angles sing. So it wasn’t the food that made Grandma’s house special. It was the vibe, the magic, and the unexpected sound effects.

Let me paint a picture for you: Grandma never wore pants. I mean never. I don’t think the woman even owned a pair. No matter the season, she was always dressed like she was heading to afternoon tea with the Queen – zip-up dress, sweater, hair pinned just right, and thick stockings that could stop a bullet.

She’s shuffle through the house, tea kettle in one hand, plant of sandwiches in the other, and with each step – pfft, pffft, pffffft – her own little parade. Sometimes it was just a few dainty notes. Other times? It was the full brass band. A whole marching tune straight from the kitchen to the dining room. And occasionally, if we were lucky, she’d pause, put her hand over her mouth, and let out the cutest little giggle, like she was just as surprised as we were.

And oh, how we laughed. I would try not to explode in a fit of giggles, but come on – Grandma was crop-dusting with confidence. You can’t just let that go unacknowledged.

Then there were Sundays. The roast beef on Sundays. Mom would cook like she was serving a king. Dad would go fetch Grandma, and she’d roll up in her wheelchair like royalty. But as soon as she stood up–toot, toot – and the giggling would start. Us kids would be in silent hysterics, and even Mom, the epitome of class and composure, would shoot me a side-eye smirk like, “Did you hear that too?”

At the dinner table, mid-potato mash or gravy pour, Grandma would lean silently to one side and release the hounds. It was her thing. We didn’t question it. We just… embraced it. Literally and figuratively. Because, despite the fragrance, she was ours. And man, she was funny without even trying.

It's wild how life, with all its ups, downs, and traumatic detours, can make you forget the little joys – like Grandma’s accidental one-woman comedy shows. We get so caught up in the hurt, the healing, the heavy stuff, that we overlook the memories that once made us laugh so hard we snorted soda out of our nose.

But writing this blog has been like digging through an old attic trunk of forgotten joy – and in there, tucked between the tough memories, I found this golden memory. And it reminded me, laughter lives right alongside the pain. Even in the middle of hard times, life throws us these ridiculous, beautiful little gifts. Like farty grandmas in church dresses.

So now, I turn to you:

What’s your “Grandma fart” memory?

What’s something silly, sweet, or unexpected that made you smile even when life was tough?

Let’s bring back the giggles. Life’s too short not to laugh at the little things – especially the ones that echo through the room.