Day in the Life

At the park 4/27/11

I'm in Austin, Texas visiting my grandchildren.  There is really no place I would rather be than hanging out with Megan (5) and Hunter (3).  Their parents head off to work in the mornings and I have the kids all to  myself until the work day is over.  This year Megan started kindergarten and her parents insist that she attend, even on days that Nana is in town. Hunter and I hang out at home, reading books, coloring, and watching Dora the Explorer until it is time to walk to school to pick up Megan.

I am starting to adjust to the Texas climate.  When I left Oregon we were looking forward to temperatures above 60.  In Texas we're in the high 80's with humidity.  My hair was actually weeping by the time I pushed the stroller all the way to the elementary school.  Today I remembered to carry a water bottle with me.

Every day we pick up Megan from the blue painted rectangle in the front of the school that corrals the kindergarten students until their parent or designated adult shows up to claim them.  We stop at the park halfway between school and home and Megan and Hunter swing and climb on the play structures and demand that I "Look at me, Nana" or "Push me, Nana."  We always pack a snack.  One of the best parts of going to the park is a bag of crackers and a juice box!

Today we spent about a half an hour at the park before I suggested that it was time to head home.  Hunter climbed into the stroller and Megan skipped along behind us stepping on our shadows and announcing it to Hunter every time she stepped on her head. 

A few blocks from the park I turned to Megan and said "Watch out for the dog poop."  She skipped by the small fresh pile on the sidewalk and we continued up the street to the corner where Hunter declared,  "I want to see the dog poop!"

I pushed the stroller across the street while telling Hunter, "It's back there on the sidewalk.  I didn't want Megan to step in it."  Hunter turned her head and leans over the side of the stroller trying to catch a glimpse of the dog poop.

"I can't see it," she exclaims loudly "I want to see the dog poop.  Go back!  I want to see the dog poop!"

I am an adoring grandmother.  I am usually a pushover for anything these kids ask for, but dog poop?  I was not going back to view dog poop!

So for the next two blocks my darling 3 year old granddaughter is screaming "I want to see the dog poop.  I want to see the dog poop."  She kept up the litany until Nana found another, somewhat dried out, pile of poop.  In my best indulgent Nana voice I told her "Look Hunter, there's another pile of dog poop."  She looked and she was happy.

Just another day in the life of #1 Nana...life is good.

A Close Call

My daughter, Sarah, planned to buy a new car next year, but then a driver in a SUV rammed into the rear of her little Honda Accord at full speed while she was stopped in traffic.

Right after the accident she emailed me a picture of what was left of her car. The message said “Do not panic. I am okay.” The entire rear section of her car was crumpled. The rear seat was pushed forward and covered with broken glass.

  

There is much to be grateful for:

 

• The car compacted around her, but she was protected, even though the air bags did not deploy. Thank God for crumple zones.

• The accident happened a half a block from the day care center. Sarah usually picks the kids up on her way home from work. That day my son-in-law picked them up. My grandchildren would have been strapped in to their car seats in the back of the car as the frame crumpled around them and broken glass rained down.

• Sarah walked away from the accident. She continues to have some physical discomfort as a result of the accident, but she is alive.

 

Sarah had always wanted a Mini Cooper. She selected the new Mini Cooper Countryman and it was delivered, fresh off the boat, last week…a full year before she had planned to have a new car. It is now equipped with new car seats for the kids.

 

I am grateful.

 

 

 

Thanksgiving

It is snowing outside as I write this. The first flurries of snow were enough to send the spouse out to the garage to put the snow tires on my car. Left to my own devices I would have gone to Les Schwab, but apparently the line for snow tire installation reaches around the block. One of the gifts of retirement is the luxury of not having to go anywhere. I can ignore the snow and stay snug in my living room, except when I need to get to the airport. Tomorrow I have to go to the airport.



The spouse and I are going to Texas for Thanksgiving. Since our first grandchild was born five years ago, we have spent every Thanksgiving with my daughter and her family. Our son decided not to make the trip, so we are cooking a mini-Thanksgiving dinner today so he will still have leftovers to enjoy next week.



So, the snow is falling and the smell of roasting turkey is wafting through the house and I am thankful:


...for a handy spouse who can install my snow tires


...for a son who will take care of the house while we travel (his dad gave him an instructional lecture on how to defrost pipes in case it freezes while we are gone!)


...for the resources to be able to travel


...for seven days with the granddaughters to look forward to.

Editor's update:  I had already pushed the post button when the spouse came into the house and told me the snow tires were on my car and there was one more thing to be grateful for.  Faithful readers will remember the post about the spouse's habit of gleening hubcaps on the freeway.  While installing my snow tires he discovered that one of my hubcaps was broken.  Turns out he had another one in his pile collection of hubcaps.  Now I'll never break him of the habit...or hear the end of it!




Life is good. Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Mole Day!

Today is Mole Day and my 60th birthday. What is Mole Day you ask? According to the National Mole Day Foundation Inc., Mole Day is celebrated annually on October 23 from 6:02 a.m. to 6:02 p.m.. Mole Day commemorates Avogadro's Number (6.02 x 10^23), which is a basic measuring unit in chemistry. Mole Day was created as a way to foster interest in chemistry. Ever since they took high school chemistry, my children have been wishing me a Happy Mole Day instead of a happy birthday. So Happy Mole Day everyone…has your interested in chemistry been fostered?




I am spending the week in Austin, Texas with my grandchildren, Megan (5)  and Hunter (3). The older I get, the more I realize how quickly time passes. I can see how much Megan and Hunter have grown every time I visit. They aren’t babies anymore. They are small, interactive humans. You can have a conversation with either of them and understand most of what they are talking about.


This morning I found evidence in the bathroom that someone had diarrhea. I asked Hunter, “Do you have diarrhea?”


“No,” she said  shaking her head, “I don’t have diarrhea.”  Then she wandered from room to room, searching saying “Where’s my diarrhea?” I enjoyed that sight for a few minutes before trying to explain to her what diarrhea was. I finally took her into the bathroom and showed her the potty chair.


“See the poop in the potty,” I said “that’s diarrhea.”


“Yes!” she says “There’s MY diarrhea.”


It’s a great way to celebrate turning the big six-oh. Grandchildren keep me in touch with the child I used to be.


Life is good. Happy Mole Day!

Megan's Crying Rules

Today Megan, my four year old granddaughter, gave me her rules for when it is appropriate to cry.

It is okay to cry when:

• you have a boo boo
• you miss someone
• blood is pouring out of you
• your house is on fire

It should be noted that she doesn't always follow her own rules...crying, for example, when she can't find her shoes or the popsicle is the wrong color.  I wish her life would always be so simple.  At four she knows nothing about broken hearts or broken dreams.

I am so grateful for the time I get to share with my grandchildren.  I want to be there to kiss the boo boos, staunch the flow of blood, and throw water on the fire.  I understand wanting to cry when you miss someone.  I wish I could always be there for her.

They Hatch and Grow Up So Quickly

Last week I wrote about finding a quail’s nest in the bushes outside our bedroom window. We were afraid that we had scared off the mother with our vigorous weed pulling. There were over a dozen tiny eggs in the nest. The mother returned and has been faithfully tending the nest. I checked for information on the internet about the gestation period for quail and found out that it is 24-27 days. Not knowing how long the nest had been there before we found it makes it hard to estimate when we can expect the eggs to hatch.


On Tuesday as I drove down our driveway I spotted a covey of quail under the bushes in the border around the lawn. There were two adults and a lot of tiny cotton ball sized quail running for cover. I was excited to see the little ones, but a little disappointed that I had missed the hatch. I went to check on the nest and was surprised to find the mother quail still sitting on her stash of eggs. 

I just checked the nest again a few minutes ago and our mother quail is patiently tending her eggs. I, on the other hand, am anxious to see the babies hatch.  It is exciting to see our yard teeming with quail
.
Three years ago I was similarly impatient for a birth. My daughter was expecting her second child. My second granddaughter was born on June 19th. I’m going to Texas next week for her third birthday party.

I hope the quail hatch before I leave. Just like grandchildren, they grow up so quickly. I don’t want to miss those early days of their lives.

Life is good.

The Story Where Everyone Hates Nana

I’ve written frequently in my blog about my granddaughters. Being their Nana is one of the joys of my life. I’ve written about the cute things that they say and our adventures when I visit them in Austin, Texas. I just returned from my latest visit where I attended the wedding of my son-in-law’s sister.


The granddaughters were the flower girls in their aunt’s wedding. They had beautiful dresses and wreaths of flowers in their long blond hair. They were picture perfect. They each carried a basket of petals down the long aisle and only remembered to throw them when they reached the alter.

My job at the wedding was flower girl wrangler. I managed to get them bathed and to the church on time and keep them clean and out of the baptismal font before the start of the ceremony. (Although later we wondered if we should have let Hunter take a dip to drive the demons out.) From my seat in the fourth row I watched them walk slowly down the aisle and whispered to them as they passed me “Throw the flowers, throw the flowers!”

At the reception they roamed with a small pack of children and I watched to make sure they didn’t get too wild. We enjoyed the buffet and they managed to finish the meal, complete with beverage, without a spill. They had been remarkably well-behaved throughout the event, but we knew not to push our luck. We had decided to take the children home after dinner, and after a long exciting day, get them to bed at their regular bedtime. Nana would stay with the kids and their parents could enjoy the drinks and dancing at the reception with their friends and family.

Implementation of the plan was going just fine until the girls realized that Mommy wasn’t with us in the car. Daddy, who hadn’t made even one visit to the open bar so he could drive us home, was in the driver’s seat, but Nana was sitting in Mommy’ s place. As we left the parking lot the wails started.

“I want my mommy!”

“I want my mom…mom….mom…eeeee!”

Calm explanations by Daddy and Nana were having no effect. It was obviously all Nana’s fault that Mommy was absent. Soon a new chant filled the car.

“I hate Nana.”

I hate Nana; I want my mom…mom…eeee.”

Two high pitched, wailing voices chanted the whole way home, “I hate Nannn……nnnnnna!”

At the house Hunter threw herself on the floor screaming for her mother. Picture a red-faced cherub in a pool of ivory organza with tears streaming down her face. Her sister kept up the chorus wailing “I hate Nana.”

I told my son in law to go. “They’ll be fine.” I said “They’re just tired.” And I crossed my fingers that it was true.

With one uncertain look back at me he left. Two minutes later I turned on a video of Cinderella, changed them into jammies, and fed them a snack. The wailing ceased and they snuggled with me on the couch to watch the movie. I called their parents to report that all was fine.

At 8:30 we were snug in bed reading bedtime stories. Hunter dozed off before we finished the second book. As I cuddled with Megan she said “I love you Nana.” And I resisted the urge to tell her “That’s not what you said earlier!”

That’s the thing about family. We aren’t always kind, but in the end we really do love each other.

I'm grateful for family...even the ones who hate me!

Role Models

When my daughter was 7 or 8 she told me that she wanted to be a journalist "like Oprah or Connie Chung."  At the time I remember thinking how remarkable it was that this blond, blue eyed child had Chinese-American and African-American role models.  Her generation was fortunate to have strong female role models from many different ethnic and racial groups.  Although my daughter didn't grow up to be a journalist, she's a chemist,  those role models helped her become the accomplished woman that she is today.  She grew up knowing it was okay to be smart and that girls could be good at math and science.  Now she has two daughters of her own. 

My granddaughters  at 2 and 4 have yet to express any preferences for their future careers.  However, Hunter, the 2 year old, is convinced that she is a princess.  She insists on wearing "princess dresses" everyday.  Knowing how important it is that girls have self-esteem and are supported for their talents as well as their appearance, we are always quick to provide positive reinforcement to Hunter when she says "I bootiful." 

We respond "Yes, you are beautiful and smart too!" 

To which she replies "No, I bootiful.  I not 'telligent, I bootiful."

"Yes, Hunter.  You are both intelligent and beautiful." 

Where's an intellectual princess role model when you need one?

I am grateful for strong women who have led the struggle for equity.  My granddaughters have bright futures because of the work of many courageous women.

Laughter

http://thiseclecticlife.com/category/only-the-good-friday/

Is there anything better than hearing a child laugh?

It brings a smile to my face just thinking about my granddaughters' laughs...not giggles, but those high pitched, full-out chuckles that come from deep within. Their squeals as they fly down the slide at the park is the sound of innocence and joy. It is pleasure in it's purest form.

All is good with the world when the children are laughing.

Great Literature

I just returned from visiting my grandchildren in Austin. They are growing so quickly. My oldest, Megan, will start kindergarten next September. Her sister, Hunter, aka "The Beast", is two. Yesterday morning they both crawled in bed with me, each with an armful of books. What a great way to start the day: two jammie-clad kids cuddling, sunshine just starting to peek in the window, and a plentiful sufficiency of books. This would be a better story if I could say that Nana was importing the wisdom of classic English literature to a new generation. The reality is that they are enchanted with all things princess and I am an indulgent grandmother.

We read about Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, and Jasmine and Belle, and Ariel, who is a mermaid but apparently also a princess. The princesses are always kind to others, polite, friendly and adventurous. While this generation of princesses still looks for Prince Charming, they aren’t bad role models. I’m always quick to point out that the princesses are also intelligent and strong. Not great literature, but a good way to start the day.

Megan cuddled in close, reached up and stroked my cheek and said “I love you, Nana.”

“I love you too.” I replied.

It doesn’t get much better than this. Life is good.

The Right Words

Words are important to me. There's such a feeling of satisfaction when I can find exactly the right words to convey my thoughts or feelings. I've enjoyed finding a few blogs with excellent writing. I, of course, compare my pitiful efforts to the blogs I read. I learn a lot reading others and I'm expanding my vocabulary. Here in eastern Oregon we don't use a lot of ten dollar words.

This next week I'm going to visit my granddaughters in Texas. They know how to use language in inventive and evocative ways. Hunter, who is 2, sometimes gets frustrated when she isn't able to adequately express herself with words and will resort to typical toddler behavior and scream. Using language creatively her four year old sister commented, "She's making my ears cranky." Now in our family when a noise, or Hunter, is loud and irritating we say that our ears are cranky. I love language…and the granddaughters!

Life is good.