24 HOURS IN GRANDMA LIFE, PART 2

I was up at 6 a.m. after a fitful night of not much sleep.  I usually get up at 6:00 anyway so it was no big deal to be ready to greet Son One at our agreed-upon time of 6:45 for him to drop off their dog for the day.  We all realized at some point that with them off on their snowshoe hike and us in Seattle with the girls, their dog would be alone in his crate for about 12 hours at their house.  Nope.  So of course we agreed to dog-sit.   We'd be gone about 5 hours, but that was more manageable for him.

Son and pup showed up at 7:15, running late, so Son One stuck the crate in the door, said "Hi and Bye" and took off.  Rocko was a ball of energy and running around like crazy like he always does when he first arrives.  I knew he'd have the girls up in no time, and of course that's just what happened.  He sniffed them out in their downstairs nest and ran down to greet them.

I started making the fruit salad I'd planned for breakfast.  In short order Jewel was upstairs announcing, "Rocko pooped on the carpet."  Angel was right behind her grabbing paper towels for clean up.  Sigh.  I trusted them to get the job done, plus, I just didn't want to deal with it.  I kept my salad-making going.  Angel went to the bathroom down the hall, came out and said, "Oh no! Rocko just peed in the hallway!"  This time I was annoyed.  He had just arrived!!!  Angel, again, went into clean up mode while I took Rocko outside -- sort of a horse/barndoor situation.  He just looked at me, sniffed around for 30 seconds, and wanted back inside.  I decided to try to wear him out a bit by throwing the ball for him, but that only lasted a few minutes.  Back inside we came.

The girls went back downstairs, but were up again a little after 8:00 at my urging since I needed them eat, get dressed, and ready for our trip to Seattle, with a plan to leave around 9:30.  They behaved as if they had all the time in the world.  By then, Hub had come down from his morning routine upstairs.  While the girls ate, again taking their plates downstairs, he and I had a few moments to chat and have coffee where I told him of all the events that had transpired since I last had seen him awake just before 10:00 the night before.  I admit, I shed a few tears of overwhelm and self-recrimination.  I just felt I should be able to handle all the ongoing "chaos" a bit better.  How do some people move through these things with such ease?  He was, as always, a great listener and encourager and propper-up of my sagging self-esteem.

I took Rocko out again for more ball throwing before he'd have to be alone for several hours.  Hub went to the garage to clear out his snowboard gear from the car so we could all fit in for the drive to the candle place.  I cleaned up the kitchen with Jewel chatting in my direction as she played one of her computer games on her tablet.  She wanted me to create an "avatar" of myself to play with her, so I stood beside her at the counter where she sat and we started to created the face/hair/clothing of this computer generated "me".  I chose a chin shape that she said wasn't right.  I said I thought it was fine.  She said, "But you have the chin of an old hag."  

O.K.  I know I should have laughed.  Under other circumstances and with a bit more sleep I would have, maybe.  But instead, my heart sank and I just stood there silently, blankly, wondering how to respond.  She immediately said she was sorry; that she didn't mean it; she just meant I'm old  -- with which I do not take exception, but still it stung.  I know this is what they hear in our youth-obsessed culture; she didn't mean it as overtly insulting.   She was truly sorry she'd blurted it out.  She knows my stance on ageism.  LOL  Struggling to feel relevant and on top of things anyway, I just calmly and as cheerfully as I could, told her I needed to use the bathroom and she could finish the avatar and show me when I returned.  I went up to my room and cried.  I allowed myself a 5 minute pity party about how tired I was and how hard I was trying and how much I loved my grandkids and wanted to be able to do this for them, but maybe I'm not cut out to be a "fun grandma"...on and on.  Then I pulled myself together, put on a little make up, and went downstairs to face the day...again.

We all gathered and I said, "Grab your coats!" to which they replied they did not bring any.  It was pouring rain and about 38 degrees outside.  I left Angel to tough it out since she would mostly be inside making her candle, but I grabbed an umbrella and one of my fleece jackets for Jewel, who refused to wear it.  I brought it along anyway.  We headed out and the drive was fine.  Hub dropped us off at the candle place and went off to park the car.  The older girls settled; Hub returned after parking;  he, Jewel (who said she was cold and put on the previously refused jacket, along with gloves we found in the pockets), and I started to explore the neighborhood for the next hour while the candle event was going on.  The area where we were is not really kid-friendly.  It's very urban, hip, and sophisticated and not exactly a family fun destination.  But we found a big art supply store and enticed Jewel to go in with us.  She had a blast.  Lots of art supplies, but also little this's and that's like cool pencils, papers, games, puzzles, rocks, magnets, and toys.  

At one rotating stand there were colorful rocks of various types, geodes and the like.  One bin had round balls stuck together like a bracelet.  She picked the whole thing up, thinking it literally was a bracelet, and trying to try it on, the magnetic hold released and one-inch balls when flying off her hand and skittering all over the floor with a crash.  She was shocked and embarrassed.  But the very cool young sales-woman came over to see if we were OK, laughing and encouraging that the accident was no big deal as we skuttled around trying to find all the balls rolling on the floor.   

After that fiasco, we went in search up and down the aisles looking for affordable markers that Jewel wanted.  Why are dogs allowed in stores?  In the very aisle we needed to be in, a dog had taken an enormous dump and no less than three young sales-women were in the process of doing clean up.  (I felt this was going to the be theme of my day!)  We finally were able to access the markers, pay for them and get outside again in time to go pick up the older girls.  We still had 2-1/2 hours to kill while their candles 
"cured" and would be ready for pick up.

We got everyone in the car again and drove down the hill to the tourist attracting Pike Place Market.  There is so much to see and do, we thought they'd love it.  Jewel said she doesn't like big cities because it's too crowded and every one litters. She didn't like seeing the fish stalls because she feels sorry for dead animals and she wants to be a vegan.  She held my hand through the crowd, but with a glum look on her face as we made our way trying to keep Hub in view as he went ahead trying to find a kid-acceptable place to have lunch.  She said she wanted to go home.  Everyone was hungry.  

We finally found a spot where we could all sit down.  Restaurants are expensive, but at this point we just said, "Order what you want."  I was going to cheap out at the $5.00 hot chocolates, but Hub overrode me.  He knew better than to throw roadblocks at this mostly pleasant respite.  Lunch was fun and relaxing.  Well worth the $114 we paid for simple fare, nothing fancy.  (What the hell?!?)  By the way, my animal-loving "vegan" had a cheeseburger and ate every bite.  LOL

We decided to ditch the Market at that point, having barely seen anything, realizing it was not fun for the kids.  We loaded up the car and headed back up the hill to the candle place, but still had time to kill so wandered around a bit, strolled through an upscale toy and clothing store.  We picked up the candles, headed back home, dropping Friend off on the way.  Back at our house our two girls were quiet and calm, seemingly content.  Jewel had napped on the way home.  Hub went upstairs to install the new bedroom blinds that had been delivered.  The girls and I went downstairs to "veg out" with a movie I agreed to rent on Amazon, "Wild Child".  I was looking forward to some mindless teen chick flick  entertainment.  

Jewel had found my old Betsy McCall doll on a shelf downstairs and had been enamored with her.  She's about 60 years old and has one outfit that came with her.  Jewel decided to design her a new dress.  So for the entirety of the movie I was trying to watch, she sketched a dress and took measurements of the doll, asking me for help reading the tape measure, how to spell words, etc etc.  I watched the movie with one eye while engaging in the design details of a new dress for Betsy with the other.  The movie ended and we adjourned to the fabric box to choose fabric for the new dress. She changed her mind on the fabric design after finding a pattern more favorable.

I am no seamstress, but I figured, "How hard can this be?"  Hard.  The first attempt was a disaster and went in the trash; the second slightly less so, but we made it work.  I cut out the shape of the dress, got the seams started and we took turns hand-sewing until we had a rather shapeless but workable enough new dress for Betsy.  Deciding to add a belt made all the difference.  Accessories often do.  Jewel and I were both pretty proud of our collaborative efforts.

After chasing Rocko around to retrieve the spools of thread he was chewing on after raiding my thread box, I cleaned up all the fabric, thread, needles, scissors, etc and did dinner prep.  Hub came downstairs and sauted shrimp and dressed the salad.  Shortly after finishing dinner I got a text from Son One saying they were home and he'd be over shortly to get the kids and the dog.  I sort of stood at the window in anticipation.  LOL  Not really, but I did start to project myself into an evening of pajamas and a grown-up movie in a clean and quiet TV room with Hub.   And later, when I got to that TV room, I discovered Angel had cleaned everything up to its previous tidiness and not a trace of the "sleepover party" remained.  Plus, before going home she had sought me out to thank me and tell me she loves me and was so happy we treated her to the sleepover and outing.  Heart melts.

Today I am feeling 100% rested, enjoying a quiet Sunday, and doing some self-admonishment for my self-criticism around not being completely and totally joyful about every moment of the 24 hours of Grandma-ing.  Hub helped me get perspective by telling me I should give myself credit for doing a damn good job in spite of my challenges around high sensitivity to noise, demands, and the unfolding chaos of the unknown at every turn.  He's right.  Yay, me.

So, to be clear, none of this is meant as complaint.  I have lovely, normal, amazing grandkids.  What I recall is that raising kids is hard and relentless work.  I did it for 20 years, getting my two boys from zero to eighteen -- and beyond, if one counts the horrors of the college years.  I wouldn't want to do it again.  AND, I am incredibly grateful to have my granddaughters close, both physically and emotionally.  It is a labor of exhausting and joyful love.  It's like living in a colorful kaliedoscope of chaos and beauty, ever spinning, ever surprising.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

24 HOURS IN GRANDMA LIFE, PART 1

We Christmas-gifted our 13-1/2 year old granddaughter (let's call her Angel) an "experience" -- an outing of some sort (perhaps with a friend, since friends these days are her passion).  She did some research and chose to go to a very hip and urban neighborhood in Seattle to a "candle bar" where one smells about 100 scents and chooses up to 18 favorites, then works with a "scent specialist" to create a personalized scented candle to the tune of either $30.00 (one wick) or $50 (three wicks). Hmm...OK.   Yesterday, Saturday, was the day which we chose because her parents (Son One and Beautiful DIL) had a day- long snowshoe hike planned and we thought it would be good for our granddaughters to be with us for the day.

With admirable foresight and perhaps a bit of  self-interest, Angel asked me if she and her friend (who will now be called Friend) could actually come over Friday night for a sleepover and then they would all already be here on Saturday to get an early start on the day.  (Their candle bar reservation was at 10:30.)  It seemed like a good idea and super easy, since I'd previously hosted a sleepover for her and FOUR friends a few months ago. (YIKES!)  So Angel and Friend along with our 8 year old granddaughter who we will call Jewel, arrived at 6 p.m. on Friday with overnight gear in tow and two grocery bags full of junk food.  

They all almost immediately disappeared downstairs to our TV room and adjoining Game Room (pool table, darts, foosball).  Perfect spots to hang out and away from us, just like their dad and his friends did as teenagers.  Sweet...And Win! Win!

Within 20 minutes Jewel came upstairs to tell me Angel needed some tampons.  What?!?  I haven't had tampons in the house since my hysterectomy at the turn of the century.  I envisioned another trip to the store.  I went downstairs to check on this request but was told Angel and Friend had worked out that Friend had "a whole bunch of pads" with her to share.  First, when did girls start talking about their periods and period supplies with the same matter-of-factness as telling me they were hungry and decided to share a bag of chips?  Back in my day this little convo would have been unheard of!  Second, just how much did Jewel know of any of this?  Turns out, not much.  She knows the words, but not the whys, and was content to be reassured that blood in the toilet didn't mean anyone was dying.

So, back upstairs, girl-crisis averted, it was time to get some supper started.  I'd gone shopping for pizza fixings that afternoon; Hub helped organize the "build your own pizza" bar in the kitchen and took charge of getting the pizzas in the oven and drinks doled out.  Toppings had to be negotiated, but finally everyone apparently enjoyed the result.  They took their slices back downstairs and only empty plates returned.

Around 8:00, the girls were back upstairs ready to create some god-awful concoction of green 'cotton candy' grapes coated in melted Jolly Rancher candies, rolled in "Nerds" little candy balls.  First, cotton candy grapes are some GMO invention that taste like soap, in my judgement.  Jolly Ranchers are hard candies of colors and flavors not found in nature.  Nerds should be outlawed.  The result was disgusting.  They loved them.

The evening progressed with relative ease from there until about 9:45.  Hub went up to our room to read and get ready for bed.  I knew the girls were still being a bit rowdy downstairs and not at all ready to settle down, so I wasn't comfortable retiring for the night.  I decided to watch something on TV and no sooner settled on a movie than Angel appeared upstairs around 10:15 to get a glass of water and to quietly share her frustration that Jewel wouldn't give Angel and Friend any "space" of their own and wanted to be included in everything they were doing.  I sympathized.  But really, what could I do?  It's the nature of the little sister beast.  I asked Angel when she thought they might be ready to settle down a bit and when she thought they might be ready for lights out.  She said, "Well, realistically, like midnight, maybe 1:00."  What?!?  But I also know that is the nature of the sleepover beast.  I sighed.  Then she said, "But I do have some gummy things I can take to help me relax and they put you right to sleep."   RED ALERT!  RED ALERT!  RED ALERT!  

You would have been impressed by my calm exterior response.  Internally I was freaking out.  ("No...not my baby!  Not yet!  Oh no!!!")  I realize I'm in the minority, but I have a personal value system that is anti-substances of any kind and which barely tolerates Ibuprofen for my migraines.  But I just calmly said, "Oh, where did you get these gummies?  How many do you have?  Do you know what's in them that makes you sleepy?"  She got them from the mom of her friend (who is Muslim, not that that should matter, but I know there are more strict rules for her than others) as samples.  Samples of what?!?, I wondered.  I told her to bring me the packets so I could take a look.  She did.  They were sealed two-packs of gummies of Melatonin and Passion Flower, labeled "Relax".  I took them from her.  I told her I was uncomfortable with her having them unless her parent's knew.  I gave her big kudos for honesty in telling me.  She seemed chill with the whole thing. No big deal.  She went back downstairs.  I immediately started Googling and found all the usual contradictory internet advice from "safe for kids over three" to "use with caution and consult pediatrician first."  I texted her parents.  They did not know about them, but were not too concerned; thanked me for letting them know.

I was just getting past this little incident, when 15 minutes later Jewel came upstairs in tears.  Angel and Friend were being "mean" to her and not letting her make videos with them.  (This seems to be a non-stop activity of the early teen set -- constantly videoing each other being ridiculous.)  Jewel and I sat on the sofa while I listened to her lament about being left out, that she had no friends to have sleepovers with, that she wants a best friend like Angel has, and it's not fair...on and on.  I commiserated, reassured, told stories of my own loneliness at times, promised that when she was a bit older, like Angel, she will have SO MANY FRIENDS!  I could tell she was also just really tired.  When she was a baby/toddler I could always get her to sleep by rubbing her feet.  I reached for one foot and started to massage. She smiled.  I kept it up and soon she was telling me how much she loves algebra, her fun at recess, and about some book she is reading and we talked and laughed as I just kept up the foot massage on both feet.  After about 30 minutes she went back downstairs, but was immediately back up telling me the girls weren't there.  She thought they went outside.  "Now what?!", I thought.

I went back down with her and we found them in the Game Room, sitting on my LIGHT BROWN leather loveseat with some cheap "dime store" bright red lipstick (or was it face make up like one uses for Halloween?) rubbed all over their faces (and fingers) making videos of their shennanigans.   Nope.  I hustled them off the leather loveseat and into the bathroom with soap and water, then back to the TV room with firm instructions to "settle down for the night".  They turned down the lights, snuggled into their blankets, and turned on some movie that seemed appropriate for all ages (but what do I know?) and I left them to it.  I went up to bed at midnight, exhausted.  Thankfully I didn't hear from them again.

I wish I could tell you I fell into a deep and restful sleep.  I did not.  I have written previously about my 'highly sensitive' nature and my low tolerance for over-stimulating environments, constant interruptions, and emergent responses to events.  Well, I was in the thick of it, only 6 hours into the 24 I'd committed to.  I was in full on "worry and stress" mode.  But also with a healthy dose of deep gratitude for even having the privilege of being in their young, busy, confusing, amazing lives.  Being a grandma is confusing too.  

At least that's the view from here...©

Part 2 coming up....

CHAOS

Yesterday morning a thunderstorm rolled through our area.  This is not a common occurrence.  We get drizzle, mist, showers, even steady rain sometimes.  But yesterday morning the skies darkened, the temperature dropped, and winds picked up.  Soon, there was distant rumbling.  And a pelting non-stop big drop rain.  By the time I signed on to my weekly Zoom visit with my Sutra Sisters yoga group we all heard the loud cracks of thunder and flinched a bit at the flashes of lightening outside the windows in our respective homes, although some of us live 20 miles apart.

This dark deluge, replete with sound effects, seemed fitting.  Our world has been storming lately.  We have been living in a whirl of chaos it seems -- where nothing is as it was.  In the Ayurvedic tradition, one would call the energy around us "Vata" -- a swirling chaos of unpredictable movement.

We've been living with the Coronavirus pandemic where many (most, in Washington) have been "locked down" socially: staying home, keeping physical distance from each other, wearing masks, to comply with the Governors order.  But others, some in our community and in other states, have defied this recommendation to slow the spread of the virus and have refused to stay home, to distance from others, to wear masks. Somehow this defiance has become a political statement -- a disbelief in science, epidemiology, and a protest against being told what to do, how to live.  It's become a statement of "freedom" to refuse to comply.  Citizen is pitted against citizen as the refusal to wear a mask endangers us all.

As businesses have shuttered to comply with orders to "stay home" workers have been laid off, let go, and some small businesses have closed for good.  No one wanted this.  Everyone hates this.  We all grieve.  Yet some believe we must suffer this economic downturn in order to save lives.  Others have organized rallies and stormed State Houses with weapons and banners demanding we "open the economy".   These images on the news are unsettling and chaotic.  There seems to be no way to bridge the gap to reach an understanding of sacrificing for the greater good.

Then last week a black man in Minneapolis was killed when a white police officer pushed his face into the pavement with a knee to the victims neck as he arrested the man (who was handcuffed and unable to resist), while three other officers stood around doing nothing to help the victim.  The ensuing protests in Minneapolis and then spreading out to every major city in the United States over the ensuing days have resulted in riots, looting, fires, massive destruction of property and many injuries (thankfully, no deaths yet).   There is righteous anger, demands for change, for justice.  People want to be seen and heard.

To some police are seen as the "enemy" shouted at, pelted with bottles, rocks, and other debris as they try valiantly to maintain order and safety for protestors.  But some police were also identified as perpetrators of more undue violence in the melee, beating and clubbing and tear-gassing their way through the crowds.  Chaos.

Curfews are put in place to little effect. Tear gas and flashbombs are used to control the crowds.  Store front windows are smashed and looting occurs.  Fires are set and cars and buildings burn.  Many watch in horror, wondering to what end are these destructive acts committed? 

We hear that some portion of this destructive violence comes not from the community, but from outside extremist groups swooping in to take advantage of an opportunity to sew discord, to cause us to judge each other and to turn away from those hurting, casting them as offenders rather than victims.  We hear they are right-wing white supremacists methodically bringing makeshift weapons to the fray, to smash and burn and incite others to violence as mob mentality overtakes reason.  Who can tell?  How do we know?  What can we do?  Who are the good guys?  The bad guys?  Chaos.

And we have no leadership, no voice of calm or reason coming from the White House.  His usual words of divisiveness and threat are no balm to anyone.   The chaos of this administration is more and more disturbing, more and more out of touch, more and more ineffective.  During a pandemic he withdrew the U.S. from the World Health Organization.  During a nationwide protest over police brutality he threatens to crack down harder -- threatening military action and the loosing of "vicious dogs".   It has been nearly 4 years of chaotic dismantling of the rules and norms of our national government, of name calling, threatening, bullying.  It has been horrifying and disorienting.  We both anticipate and dread the coming election.  Our Republic hangs by a thread as an oligarchy-ruled authoritarianism creeps ever closer to the finish line.

I do not do well with chaos.  Yesterday, after the storm, I felt myself unable to find an oasis of calm.  I felt exhausted.  I decided to do something I never do.  I went up to my bed, crawled in fully dressed, pulled the covers over me, and fell asleep.  I slept for 2-1/2 hours.  This is practically unheard of.  But I believe my mind, body, and spirit had had enough.  I needed respite.  Sleep was a gentle and soothing balm in the middle of a dark and troubling day.  Hub made dinner for us; we watched a comedy on TV.  I thought I'd be up all night after my late afternoon nap.  But sleep took me under again -- for 7 straight hours.

Nothing has changed this morning....we are still fighting for our lives with the pandemic; overnight riots continued; the "president' is still Tweeting threats; I still don't get to see or hug my grandkids.

But, rested, I realize with renewed perseverance, we do as we do, we decide to go on.  To take action. To do what we can.  For me that will be:  contribute to an organization fighting for racial justice; contact elected officials; work for voting rights and candidates.  And wear my mask, physically distance, find a safe way to see my family.

I realize how blessed and privileged I am and that I have a responsibility to use that privilege, to be an example, to live a life that brings compassion and support to those I love and those who need my effort on their behalf.

I have a print hanging on my kitchen cabinet that I see every day: "We can do hard things."  Yes.  We can.

At least, that's the view from here...©