Sunday, March 24, 2019

Dumb Ways to Die at a Park with Avery and Larissa

This video was created by one of my granddaughters and stars one of my other granddaughters and that granddaughter's best friend:

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

Oh NO! I Killed Buddy the Elf!

My youngest daughter and her husband asked me to watch their kids last weekend. They did NOT inform me of the Elf on the Shelf rules. So when I opened the refrigerator door and Buddy’s legs were in the way when I started to close the door, I moved his legs.

From behind me I heard the scream of my 7-year-old granddaughter. “NOOOO! You’re not supposed to touch Buddy!” 

Frightened, I backed away from the refrigerator as I went into all-out defense mode. “I wasn’t touching him.”


“No, I was just moving his leg so I wouldn’t smash it in the refrigerator door. Do you want to see him with a cast on his leg? I wasn’t hurting him. I was saving him.”

That seemed to work. She calmed down.

Until yesterday – when she woke up – and found him still on the refrigerator.  In my defense I was already home, so I take no responsibility for why he was still on the refrigerator.

“Grandma killed Buddy!” she sobbed to her parents when she discovered he hadn’t moved. Nothing her parents said appeased her and she spent the whole day thinking I had killed her beloved Buddy. 

I knew nothing about any of the happenings yesterday, but I got a call today informing me of the rules about Buddy. Rule one – you can NOT touch him; otherwise he might die. Rule two (I found this one by looking online) – Buddy does not speak or move while you are awake. 

Fortunately I have been forgiven, because as of this morning Buddy was alive and well. He had moved!

Lesson learned!

Monday, September 4, 2017


Do you ever say to yourself, “I must be losing my mind,” and then one day realize that you have said that to yourself so many times,  you might actually have lost it? 

One of my granddaughters told me a few months ago that she wanted to go to projedy dot com. So I turned on my daughter’s and son-in-law’s computer, put in the password, went to the URL line and typed in – oh, wait, suddenly I couldn’t remember how to spell projedy or progidy. Was it with a j or a g and did it end with an e-d-y or i-d-y? Spellcheck didn’t like any of those spellings. 

So I asked Siri. She didn’t like the word either. “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.” No, projedy, I repeated. And Siri repeated, “Progeny, p-r-o-g-e-n-y.”

What the…?

Well, obviously, the site my granddaughter wanted to visit didn’t exist. She must have lost her mind as well. At 9! But she insisted that she had visited it before.

I wondered if she had dyslexia? Though I’ve never been diagnosed with it, I know I suffer from a mild form of it. Ah (lightbulb switches on), prodigy! 

Problem solved. Now if only I can solve the toilet paper problem.

“We’re out of toilet paper,” that same granddaughter said to me earlier that day.

“Do you know where we keep it?” I asked her.


Assuming that she was putting it in the dispenser, I later went into the bathroom and discovered that while she knew where we kept the toilet paper, she must have thought I just wanted to know if she knew, because not one roll went into the bathroom. 

Thankfully my memory is not completely shot. Her toilet tissue situation reminded me of the time I asked my oldest daughter to wash the dishes. She washed the dishes, but left all the forks, spoons, knives, glasses, and bowls all over the counter and table. 

With some people, I’ve learned, you need to be very specific.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Watching TV With Grandma

When I lived alone, my only television viewing options were 2 channels – CBS any time and ABC on days with no wind, meaning that I was able to watch ABC only about 3 days last year – the Midwest is not conducive to antennas. 

So when I moved in with one of my daughters and her husband, because my tiny granddaughter still sleeps a lot, I investigated the plethora of channels available to me. One of the Nanny shows might be helpful – even though I have already raised 4 kids and have cared for numerous other children, including my own grandchildren. But, I reasoned, I love to learn and I am always open to learning new ways to guide children, so I started watching one of the Nanny shows.

My newest granddaughter, at 3 months, enjoys watching home renovation shows with me.

Everything was going well until a baby cried – not in a whimpering pay-attention-to-me kind of way, but in an all-out nobody-ever-feeds-me-I’ve-been-born-into-the-wrong-family-and-I’m-scared-to-death kind of way. 

My newest granddaughter empathizes when she hears other babies cry. Their pitiful cries bring her to tears every time, and not in the same way that vacuums scare her to tears – she has no compassion for vacuums. When she hears babies cry, she drops the corners of her mouth, sticks out her lower lip, and cries that quivering cry that tells you she is oozing with compassion, so please take care of that baby – now.

Lesson learned – no more Nanny shows for us. Instead I turned my attention to the HGTV channel. I had seen a couple of Fixer Upper and Property Brothers shows on Netflix (I even wrote about the cruelty of the Property Brothers {on a comedy site – don't worry}), but now I could watch LOTS of home renovation shows – ALL DAY LONG if I wanted, and I wouldn’t have to worry about how they would be affecting my granddaughter! 

Like watching caterpillars transform into magnificent butterflies, even the most damaged homes metamorphose into beautiful showplaces thanks to the construction and design crafters. What could possibly be wrong with introducing her to those kinds of shows? 

Sorry I asked that question, because I began to wonder – is my granddaughter paying too much attention to those shows? Is she learning how to demolish and rebuild homes just by watching TV with me? 

What if, when she learns manual dexterity, she decides to take a hammer to all the walls in her house? Will my daughter and her husband blame me? Or will they thank me? They have been talking about getting rid of the two tiny division walls that sit between the dining area and the living room anyway.

Hmm, I’d better consider the consequences…I might be paving the way for a future Flintstones Bam Bam!

In my own defense, I have to add that I'm usually crocheting when I'm not holding her, and she seems to be fascinated with what I'm "building" too, so maybe she'll be interested in learning lots of creative skills!

Monday, April 4, 2016

Funny Things Grandkids Say, Part ? (I’ve lost count)

Inside the many blogs I’ve written on My Heart Blogs to You sit cute and funny things my kids and grandkids have said over the years. One blog I almost forgot to write is this short story:

A little background first – if you are reading this blog for the first time, I need you to know one thing – I forget things – a lot. So when I remember them, I often blurt out, “Oh!” because that’s the first word that pops into my head.

So on this particular day, while I was talking to three of my grandchildren, and I forgot what I was talking about, I blurted out my customary, “OH!” when I remembered what I wanted to say. 11-year-old Audrey immediately broke into song, “Say Can You See!”

And now, on a more solemn note, I leave you with this memory:

Sunday, April 3, 2016

Kid Crushes and Puppy Love

One of my 8-year-old grandsons told me yesterday, with a gigantic smile on his face, that he had a crush on a little girl who was “perfect” for him.

“Is she in your grade?” I asked.

“She’s in my class!” He was exuberant.

“How is she perfect?” I wanted to know.

“She’s polite and she plays sports,” he responded.

“Does she like you, too?”

“I think so. One of my friends asked me if I liked her, because he said she liked me. We smile at each other a lot.”

“I wish I could see what she looks like.”

“You can! My mom found her.”

“On Facebook?”

All he had was a last name. 100,000 other people had the same last name. But Facebook apparently looks through all of your friends and their friends and dwindles the top contenders down to less than a dozen. He found her mom, but I couldn’t access her photos unless I friended her. Smart mom. I like this little girl already.

Then my grandson remembered that he had a picture of her on his iPad. She looks very sweet. He was smiling proudly as he showed me her photo.

“Who knows? Maybe when you’re older, you’ll be able to date her.”

“My dad said that my sisters aren’t allowed to kiss a boy until they’re 19, but I can kiss a girl whenever I want to, and my Mom said, ‘What? No!’” He and his sisters laughed.

Add another 8 years to the 8 years he’s been living, and he’ll be driving a car and possibly dating his kid crush – or they’ll be attending each other’s sporting events. Either way, Grandma will be watching!

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Laughing in the Ozark

Last year, my daughter won a week at a timeshare in the Ozark, so she invited my son and me to join her, her husband, and their daughter. The area was beautiful. Outside any bedroom window and from the deck you could see the lake.

Every morning I would awaken before anybody else, quietly make the coffee, and slip onto the deck with my laptop and coffee in hand. After a while I would hear the bustling from the condo, usually as a result of  7-year-old Myraiah finding my son’s candy pumpkins and Greg confiscating them and hiding them from her again and again. They both played hide ’n seek with those pumpkins the whole time.

The only problem with the condo was that it had only 3 bedrooms. My daughter and son-in-law took the master bedroom, my granddaughter was supposed to sleep in the middle room with the bunk beds, and the last room at the other end of the condo was left for my son and me to share – it held two queen beds and a bathroom.

Myraiah didn’t want to sleep alone though, so she shared my queen bed with me. And she complained about the bed, which sounded with every move like boulders rolling over cellophane-covered crackers – without the box.

So while my son and I were talking and moving on our separate beds, we would hear Myraiah, who was trying to sleep, say, “SHHHH!”

And we would laugh. And she would get angry and reprimand us again, which would cause us to laugh even harder, which would cause her to SHHHH even more vehemently.

“I mean it! Stop it!” she scolded. And then to my son, she added, “I’ll take away your pumpkins.”

Well, that caused us to roar with laughter. So I told her she could probably get better sleep if she slept in the bunk bed room, but she flatly refused to sleep alone.

The following night she got aggravated with my son and me again for laughing and decided she wanted to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. So we told her it was OK, but she argued that the room was too far away.

“It’s just down the hall,” I told her. “It won’t take you long to get there.”

“Yes, it will,” she argued.

“No, really, it won’t. You can be there in seconds.”

And she responded, “But not if you go in slow motion.”

My son and I exploded with laughter.