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...©

LESSONS FROM THE HEART

As grandmas go I'm pretty quiet about my grandkids.   It's not that I don't adore them; I do.  It's not that I don't absolutely know with all my heart that they are the most intelligent, advanced, kind-hearted, cutest children on the face of the earth; of course they are.  It's definitely not that I don't have about a million photos of them on my i-Phone ever at the ready to show; I do.

It's just that I'm aware that all other grandparents feel exactly the same and it soon becomes an exercise in one-upping or grandkid tales ad-nauseum.  The reality is, almost ALL kids are cute and smart and (barring significant developmental delays)  get teeth, learn to walk, say some words, eat with a spoon, go to school, get an A, ride a bike, make a friend, go on a date, find a job, etc etc. until they are all grown up and start to corner people at parties with stories and photos of their own grandkids.  Me and mine are not that special, except in the way that everyone is special and everyone deserves to be loved and cherished as much as grandkids are.

I see a lot of my granddaughters.  We live close by and Hub and I care for our 18 mo old "Jewel" two days a week.  So we see our almost seven year old "Angel" on those days too during drop off and pick up time. We host a family dinner about once a week and we generally take the girls overnight once a month so their parents get a break to reconnect on "date night".

Two separate weeks this summer we had "Angel" several hours a day with us when she was pulled from her full-time daycare camp to attend other activities -- a theater camp and an art camp -- that we encouraged as "enrichment activities" supporting and transporting her there and back.  We had her before and after these morning "camps" and got to do lots of fun and hopefully memorable things together -- visits to the library, parks, shopping, restaurants, sprinkler play, crafts, gardening, concerts, a steady stream of meals and snacks and smoothies and treats, etc etc.

One afternoon last week Angel and I walked to the park while Hub stayed home with Jewel.  Hub and I felt the girls needed a bit of time apart and we needed a rest from the full onslaught of chaos that sometimes ensues when the two of them want our undivided attentions and have needs that sometimes mesh and sometimes diverge, given their age differences.

I was tired.  I wanted to sit on a bench.  Angel wanted me to play hide and seek or tag with her.  I declined, instead encouraging her to show me how good she was on the monkey bars or balancing on the tippy bridge; anything but me running around like a six year old in the wood chips.  She was disappointed.  I tried to point out that I do lots of fun things with her, but I'm just not a fan of tag and hide and seek.  Her silence hit a nerve and I got defensive, "I do LOTS of fun things....don't I?"  She was quiet, and finally said, "Well, you play Go Fish."  That was it.  That was all she could come up with in the moment.

I wanted to laugh, but instead I could feel tears welling in my eyes.  It was reminiscent of how hard I worked at parenting her daddy and uncle, most of it going unrecognized and unacknowledged.  Such is the plight of adults in children's lives.  Angel meant absolutely no offense; she just wanted to play tag and there were no other kids around so Grandma was the obvious playmate choice.  She was easily persuaded to let me "spot" her on the high monkey bars, cheering her on, and steadying her on the dismount.  We high-fived her Olympic caliber performance.  In the end we had fun.  But it gave me pause.

So often what we offer our kids and grandkids can only be done through a generosity of heart; a gift that may or may not be appreciated in the moment, or in a lifetime.  I wish my own mother was here now for me to thank for all the things I took for granted, didn't appreciate, or ignored; the things that I know now, in my own experience, were true heart gifts that netted her little reward.

The day after the playground interaction Angel retired to the "Girls Room" -- a spare bedroom we've turned into a play space for them -- to color.  I was puttering around in the kitchen when she came out with this envelope for me, containing this drawing.  Tears welled again.  With love, gratitude, appreciation, and recognition of the overwhelming sweetness of the moment.  This gift was as quickly offered and forgotten by Angel as the comment of the previous day when it was hard for her to come up with anything fun I do with her.

Children live in the moment, which may be the best lesson they can teach us.  Hold not tightly to a perceived slight; always appreciate thanks when it comes.  Instead of tales of accomplishment, success, or milestones achieved by most every kid, these are the things to cherish, the lessons to learn.  They are quieter and don't often lend themselves to a photo stream.   It's hard to capture the essence of human spirit -- its challenges and joys -- in a snapshot.  But if you hang around kids long enough, you'll learn the lesson anyway.  Pass it on.

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

BABIES AND BELTS: BOTH CHALLENGING

I've been up nearly all night.  Long story, but the gist of it is an almost one-year-old little girl having a sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa's house, but being fairly unaware of the part about "sleeping".

She went to bed at 9:00, got up at 12:45, refused to settle back down in spite of me pulling out all the stops with all the tricks I know about how to soothe babies in the middle of the night (dry diaper, warm bottle, rocking, walking, singing, allowing a bit of fussing -- but not so much as to wake her sister!, more walking, more swaying, not interacting, finding darkest corners of the house to reduce stimuli...)  All to no avail: she was ready to party!

So at 2:00 I gave up and carried her downstairs to the TV room, where I could close the door, and allowed her to toddle around, jabber away, and give the remotes a good going over while I sat dazed and exhausted, not daring to actually turn the TV on and stimulate her further!  I noticed a few yawns at about 3:30 and she finally lay on the floor and feel asleep.  At that point I decided to let sleeping babies lie.

So, I tried to find comfort lying down on the love seat, but mostly kept focusing on my sore kinked neck and cramped legs and the tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall.  So here I sit with baby at my feet,  wondering when her 6-year-old sister will be up and ready for those promised blueberry pancakes.  Soon, no doubt.

Which brings me to ruminating about my waistline.  Of course I've been scrolling through late night posts on Facebook and happened upon a sponsored ad from a local women's clothing store.  Here's what I saw:

Breathe Life into Your Wardrobe with a Fabulous Belt

I thought about my wardrobe, consisting almost exclusively of yoga pants and hoodies these days, when Granny Nanny care takes up 30 hours a week, my yoga classes about 3-9 hours a week, then  writing, housework, errands, and coffee with friends thrown in.  In the evenings Hub and I relax in what we jokingly call our "nursing home clothes" -- basically "jammie pants" and fleece pullovers.  Since I quit working and going to church, I see that my wardrobe has taken a turn to the ultra-casual.  No need for a belt.

But even when I used to actually get dressed, belts were never my friend.  For one thing, take a look at the waistline in the graphic above.  I've never, ever had that waistline.  Even in my 20s when I weighed about 120 pounds, I carried any excess weight right about where that belt sits.  And now, at 65 and fighting to nudge the scale below 140, one side profile look in the mirror shows EXACTLY where those extra pounds have settled.  Right at the buckle.  Trying to reign that mess in just accentuates my "problem area".  

A belt may breathe life into some skinny lady's wardrobe, but as for me, I just want to breathe.  

And sleep.

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

ALTERED STATES

I have re-entered the Twilight Zone.  There is a little self-deprecating joke I tell about the first year or so after Son-Two was born --  "I seem to be present and smiling in all the family photos, but I really don't remember a thing!"   Hahahaha, funny...except that it's true.  Motherhood Amnesia.  I had a high-energy 26 month-old and a colic-y newborn.  I did not sleep for months...years.  Hub had a demanding job with erratic hours.  I had no extended family within 2000 miles.  Thank god for my mom-friends, who supported me and kept me (mostly) sane.

All of that is so far behind me now, that not remembering every detail is expected.  But much of it is coming back to me.  Remember that little baby granddaughter's birth I wrote about in February?  Well, she's growing, healthy, strong, cute, sweet....and today is 4 days shy of 3 months old!

Also, my Granny Nanny stint is in full swing.  I just finished my third week of baby care, three days a week.  Hub is on board too, but as timing would have it, he's had work conflicts galore with his part-time "just filling in" gig and I've been on my own...a very familiar pattern.

I had forgotten how all-consuming an infant is!  Bottle, diaper, playtime, nap, fuss, settle, repeat.  Oh...and walk the floor, juggle and jostle, sing and coo, change clothes, rock,  dance, look in the mirror, survey the garden, take a stroller stroll.... Our ten hour days together are ten hours of non-stop baby, Wednesday through Friday!

I have been outfitting myself with "baby stuff" -- a carseat, a swing, a play mat, a port-a-crib, diapers, wipes, toys, clothing.  Still, I'm amused at the "baby bomb" that seems to hit our house within 30 minutes of her arrival.  I forgot how nearly impossible it is to keep things tidy when the first and only priority is baby.  Things accumulate!

Plus, I know I might be a tad overly attentive.  She prefers to nap on my lap.  I prefer to let her.  She sleeps longer and more soundly and I get to gaze at her perfect little face as she rests so cozily in my arms.  Just like every other gushing grandma, I'm in love.

I also notice, my "other" life goes into hiatus on the days my Jewel is here.  We are cocooned, so far, in our own little world.  I haven't ventured out and about with her, still learning her habits and routines.  So, truth be told, I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about that.  The altered state, the Twilight Zone of stay-at-home Mommy-ness is a familiar quandary.  I love that the days spread before us with no real obligations, yet there is a sense of isolation too.  What DID I do in that other life?  Where did my friends go?   I was always meeting someone, doing something, going somewhere, and now, well, not so much.   And even on my "off" days, it's hard to switch gears out of the loving heart space and physical care of being with baby into the skill set needed to organize and facilitate a task or committee or group discussion.

We will find our rhythm, I know, and she will join my friends and me at coffee or maybe at a meeting for one thing or another.  I'll get back out there and able to be more integrated.   But just like when my sons were little, the real priority won't be "out there" so much on Jewel-days,  but "in here" -- in the circle of love and care that I have the privilege to provide for her.

I never expected this.  I am so grateful.  And tonight.....well, I'm tired.

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

A PERFECT JEWEL

I have a rule about not posting photos of people I know on this blog out of respect for the privacy of all my friends and family.  You can imagine then how freakin' hard it is for me to avoid plastering this post with photos of THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN ALL THE WORLD!  

Yes!  Beautiful DIL gave birth to our little granddaughter, on Thursday, February 26th at 3:43 p.m.  7 lbs., 11 oz.,  21-1/2 inches long and "perfect" according to the doctor and everyone else who has seen her since.   Yes, a perfect Jewel of a girl, who arrived six days early because she just couldn't wait to make her mark on the world!

When something either wonderful or terrible happens I feel compelled to tell the story over and over to either cement it in my mind or work through the emotions that attend a Big Event.  But to everyone  else listening it gets a bit old, yes?  So, no long-winded retelling of the story of labor and birth here.  The abbreviated version is that I got a call at 8:00 a.m., that contractions were under way and everyone was enroute to the hospital.  I live 3 minutes away, so I beat them there.  What followed was seven hours of progressive labor, with a big rush of excitement at the end!

I was in the room, along with DIL's mom and my son, "Daddy", for the delivery.  This was an especially huge deal for me, being a mother through adoption, and never having experienced a birth myself or even ever seen one.  Their generosity to invite me to be an intimate part of this pregnancy and birth was the greatest gift I've ever been given.  

Let me say this about pregnancy, labor, and birth.  It's a little weird.  Many women I know, including DIL, agree.  There is a strangeness in realizing a little human is growing inside you.  We made "Alien" jokes more than once.  And then the whole labor thing.  It looks pretty hurt-y.  I'm pretty good at pain when I set my meditating mind and Yoga breathing to the task, but I don't think I've felt anything at all like labor pain.  It looks a little daunting, but DIL was absolutely amazing.  A little moaning, a few tears, and at the end maybe a delicate "vocalization" (nowhere near the screaming stream of obscenities I was sure would be coming from me at that point had I been in her place.)  

The drama was how fast it all went at the end.  There was one nurse in the room checking her and then frantically trying to reach their doctor, who was nowhere to be found.  A team of nurses with equipment ran into the room, then a doctor no one had ever seen before came in, took one look and said, "On the next contraction, go ahead and give a big push."  She did.  Then one more big push and...zoom!  Baby birthed!  Within minutes, DIL was all smiles, baby lying on her chest.  Son One cut the cord.  Baby got a blanket thrown over her and the bonding began.  

Hub came into the room to meet his granddaughter, Son Two had been babysitting Angel and brought her to the hospital to meet her sister....the rest of the afternoon and early evening was a surreal and tender time of oooohing and ahhhhing, taking dozens of photos on six smart phones and sending the pictures instantly to family and friends far and wide.  Everyone took a turn holding our Jewel.  We toasted with champagne and sparkling cider and then said our goodbyes around 6:30, leaving Son-One and DIL to spend their first night together at the hospital with their new daughter. 

OK.  I guess I did go on and on....sorry.  I'm still a bit in a daze.  All my usual irony is completely at bay and I'm going around spouting the most sappy, cliche'ed, rhetoric about the whole thing.  I am blessed, I am delighted, I am in love, I am proud, I am hopeful, I am glowing, I am ... amazed at my amazement.

"Angel" came to us at 10 months old when Son-One introduced us to,  and eventually married, her mother.  I love Angel with all my heart, and now we have "Jewel" who I will have known from her first breath.  Two little girls in my life, after a lifetime of being surrounded by boys and men.  I cannot wait to watch them grow and become the human manifestation of the bright spirits and beautiful souls I know they are.

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