Welcome to the World: Open Letter to A Grandson

Dylan,

This world into which you were born is an amazing and complex place.

On one hand, there is conflict between countries and between people. It feels sometimes like the whole world is angry. There are wars and threats of war. There are natural disasters and man-made disasters. There are divorces and horrible custody battles. There are insults and intolerance.

But, on the other hand, there is great beauty and great kindness. There are people who are always standing ready to help someone else, no matter what it costs them. Through the disasters, many offer aid and comfort. Brows are wiped and injuries bandaged. Kind words are spoken and a gentle touch eases hearts.

As I look at your serenely sleeping face, I see the future. And it is good. You will be raised by loving parents who will provide what you need to grow into an adult—someone who will be as precious to them as your parents are to me. Never take for granted the gift of these two wonderful people who love you so dearly. It is the basis of who you will become.

They will love you, spoil you, and cherish you. But they will also teach you discipline, respect, and understanding. Some lessons, my sweet grandson, will be hard-learned and painful. Some will not. It is crucial for you to learn all of them—for you are the future.

Carl Sandberg, a great poet, once said, “A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.” You are that promise. As each new soul enters this world, a drop of new hope falls onto the arid ground. But, together, all of you will all produce enough nourishment to the world that it will once again flourish.

You will see the world with fresh eyes that will make us shake our heads in wonder. Someday you may do the same for mankind. Your world will be what you make it. Your destiny is in your hands. When I look into your eyes, I know the future is safe.

Grandparents Are Cool!

Me and my Texas cowgirls

Thinking back to when I was having babies, those were exciting times. I loved planning for the baby, wondering if I would have a boy or girl. We didn't have much money, but I sewed and scrimped and finally had all the things I needed for the baby's room. My parents lived 1000 miles away so there was not much they could do from there, but that was okay.

This was my baby and I wanted to make the decisions. I was going to be the mommy and I knew I would not make the mistakes my parents did. It never occurred to me that they actually didn't make that many errors, nor did it occur to me that I might make a few of my own. The point was that I was responsible for this baby, not the grandparents. Did they give me advice? Of course. Was all of it requested? Nope.

When I became a grandma, I did not know what my role was. Was I an additional parent? Was I a playmate? Was I supposed to tell my kids everything they could do better and encourage what they did right? What was I supposed to do?

Finally, I did what has worked for me in the past. I thought back to my child rearing days. Then it all became clear. Who am I to tell my kids what they did was right or wrong? That was for them to figure out, just like I did. It is their family and their responsibility. It is not mine. Whoa, that really takes the heat off me!

Luckily my kids share my values and we have a very few differences so far on the subject of child rearing. But when we do, I try to abide by their rules--even if it is not how I did it with them. After all, I raised them to make good decisons. And they do, as evidenced by their choices for mates. I have done all I can for them. I mean, I wrote them a book (Now You Know What I Know: Parenting Wisdom of a Grandmother) about all my mistakes, for goodness sake. What else do they want? Now it is their turn to love, make mistakes, and nurture their children.

My job now is to occasionally babysit, love, play and just be "cool". As I was thinking back, I remembered how NOT COOL my parents were and how definitely cool my grandparents were. So now we have a few rules at Grandma's house but mostly we play and have fun. There is always a treat somewhere for them and we laugh a lot. My job is to be one of the very few people in their lives that they know love them unconditionally--no matter what. How special is that?

This is Real Life, Folks!

Ok, I have talked about my dad recently. What I didn't tell you was that he has four great-grandchildren--all boys. Yes, Monty and I have 12 grandchildren but some are steps and some are from his side of the family. That aside, Daddy is pretty proud of his boys.

This summer when the outliers (the ones who live in another country right now) were home, I was determined that we would get a photo of the 4 guys and their great-granddad. Sounds easy, doesn't it?

The first obstacle was coordinating everyone's schedules; a Herculean task of its own when you are trying to also include nap times and "happy, not cranky" times. Then, of course, you also have to consider the children, not just the parents.

Finally we were all together and decided to make a stab at getting a picture. Where were those people from photo studios who know how to make kids pay attention and smile sweetly at the camera? My biggest regret was in not videoing the whole thing--I could have made a lot of money on some funny video show!

Dad sat on the love seat and we surrounded him with kids ages 3 and under. The parents were making faces and noises in the background--funny by itself. My stepmom was laughing hysterically in the corner, far away from the chaos.

As you can see in the photo, all was normal. One child was climbing down to escape and constantly had to be put back on the loveseat. The infant was, thankfully, asleep. However none of us know how. The next one was crying hysterically. Why? We don't know except that he seemed to do that every time he was around Daddy. And the fourth munchkin was sitting sweetly making goofy faces at the camera.

This is real life, folks. What did I do? I enlarged them and gave them to everyone. Daddy's was framed and he got it for his birthday. Really, everytime I look at mine, I laugh remembering the craziness that went into that picture. To me, it is more valuable than a fine studio portrait.

Forget Vampires: Grandma Scares Me to Death!

If little Nathanael could write about his Mema, this is what he would tell you all--that I scared the first real tears out of him. You know, that is not what a grandma aspires to, not what we dream of when we think of being in on the "firsts" in our grandchildren's lives. Unfortunately, it happened to me.

Background to the story: I babysat for two other little grand-guys while both parents went to the doctor. Both had upper respiratory symptoms and were feeling lousy. So I kept the guys for a couple of hours. The next day, Nathanael's dad asked if I could babysit for a little while.

Back to the story...I arrive at their house complete with a mask to wear when near the baby so in case I was a germ carrier, I might not pass it on to the baby. Sitting across the room from him was great. I didn't have to wear the mask and we were making faces at each other--he is so close to laughing and is so cute.

The trouble came when I took him from Mommy so they could leave. I put on my mask and picked him off her lap and all was well for a few minutes. I had him on my shoulder and he could not see my face. Unfortunately, then, he looked me dead in the face, or mask as it may be. Then all you-know-what broke loose.

The word scream does not adequately describe his reaction. Hysterical would be more accurate. Daddy came running over and pointed out as he was yanking my grandson out of my arms that Nathanael was actually crying tears. It was the first time he had seen tears in his son's eyes and I thought he was going to have a coniption. (If you don't know what that means, you aren't from Dixie...)

Of course I felt awful and my son proceded to try to make me feel worse--in fun. Soon the baby became accustomed to how I looked and we got along fine, but I didn't get any more smiles that night. He just kept looking at me with suspicion like he was saying. "Who are you? You sound like my Mema and feel like my Mema, but you don't look like my Mema."

I am happy to announce that I was there today, sans mask, and we laughed together a lot. He seemed to be over the mask trauma. (I hope I don't have to pay for therapy later.)

However, my other son called me to say that he heard from his brother that Nathanael had taken a good look at my face and became hysterical. I, of course, set the record straight and then forbade him from speaking to his brother ever again.

"Cop Farts" for breakfast

Ok. Here I am at my daughter's house while she is in Hawaii. If that is not bad enough, I have her two toddlers. OMG! I forgot so many things...not the least of which is "what can I get these kids to eat?" The older one said this morning that he wanted "cop farts" for breakfast. Somehow, I am sure that is not really want he wants. Besides, my daughter did not tell me anything about those in the notes she left for me.

Obviously my brain is fried from lack of sleep. Looking back to dinner last night, I remembered that you have to make some hard choices nutrition-wise. So I gave the meat eater his brother's meat loat (which really disappointed the dog waiting for the next bite to be thrown from the high chair.) And I gave the vegetable eater his brother's acorn squash.

Sometimes it just boils down to quiet... and getting them to eat something without a big battle. Luckily I did get them both to eat some corn and peas--of course there was some bribery involved with the meat-eater. But it all worked out okay.

It is important to encourage children to eat a balanced meal. But sometimes it just isn't going to happen. They are little individuals and have their own likes and dislikes. So I will keep trying to offer nutritious meals.

But, as a grandmom, my main goal is that they do not starve until their parents some home.

Thanksgiving Memory

As Thanksgiving approaches, I am taken back to a time when this holiday was sad for me. My ex used to take the kids every year to PA to visit his family. They got to see grandparents, uncles, aunt, cousins and had a great time.

We had worked out this deal where he would take them for the November trip, which also was around his birthday. In return, I would get the kids every Christmas eve. That way, they always knew that Santa knew where to go. The agreement was always worth it on Christmas morning when I got to see their faces when they came downstairs to see what Santa Claus brought them.

But on the last Thursday of November, I was forlorn. So I did things to occupy my time--like running the Atlanta Half-Marathon. (No need to do a whole marathon. If you can do half, you can do the whole one, right?) I would plan kayaking trips or spend the whole day with my parents, which was great also. But my mind always wandered to kids--what were they doing, what did they have to eat, did they miss me?

The best time of the day was when they would call. Their voices were the tonic I needed and I would feel better. They told me the stories of their trip and how much fun they were having. Once again, I realized that I had done the right thing.

Today, many years later, I am looking forward to the holiday with most of the kids and some of the grandkids. We are all close, but they are also close to that side of the family. The cousins are all close in age and now they are all having kids that will be close in age.

Sometimes it is hard to be a parent and to be unselfish. Believe me, I was not always a perfect, unselfish parent. But in this case, I did the right thing for my children. It is great when you can look back and be able to say that.

It is lost--have you seen it?

My daugher in law is 8 months pregnant...yes, we are about to have grandchild number eleven. How is that even possible when I am so young???

But, I digress. My point is that she is so beautiful and even still has a figure. If you watch her from behind, you would not know she was pregnant.

I had a figure when I got pregnant the first time. I was 23 and not too bad to look at. My figure disappeared somewhere around month 3 and I haven't seen it since. Where did it go? I have pondered that question for many years now. Why didn't it come back? Did I scare it away with my Fritos and Twinkies?

Somehow I thought if I got pregnant again maybe it would come back, but that did not work. Nor did it work the next time. Being of sound mind and body, I gave up after that. If the damn thing was going to come back; it was going to have do it on its own.

Still....why does she still have one at 8 months? This in one of those very unfair things in life. Here is someone I could not love more if I had given birth to her, and yet...! A part of me that lurks in the deep recesses hates her and her exercising figure. (just kidding, Jaime)

The good part is that she is putting all those good genes into my grandson. Hopefully when his wife is pregnant one day, he will be able to keep his figure...!