Jeremy – Another Writer In My Family

Grandson Jeremy pushing Great Granddaughter Ayla in swing

Finally! Somebody else in my family (which includes my parents, my two sisters, my four children, my ten grandchildren, and my two great grandchildren) wants to write.

My nine-year-old grandson, Jeremy (who admittedly is about as strange as the rest of my family – maybe he got it from me), is in the process of writing a story! Finally, one of my offspring's offspring has caught the writing bug.

I can't wait to read it – it's about a Chinese serial killer named José.

Understanding 3 Year Olds

"This time never never again say that thing to me."

Here's "that thing": My daughter and her family have the movie, The Cat In The Hat. I have the same exact movie.

A couple of weeks ago Nolan wanted to watch MY Cat in the Hat movie. I told him that my movie was the same as his movie and that since we were watching it on HIS TV, we could watch HIS movie, which was right next to HIS TV.

He didn't want to watch HIS movie. He wanted to watch MY movie. So I got MY movie and held it next to HIS movie.

"See? It's the exact same movie," I said convincingly.

"But I want to watch YOUR movie."

"Nolan, look," I said holding the two movies side-by-side in front of him. "It's the same movie."

That's when he started crying. That's when I wondered, why does it matter which movie he watches if I have the same movie?

Dinner was ready, so we all ate dinner and he forgot about it.

Until the next day.

That day Nolan wanted to watch MY Cat in the Hat movie. Not his. Mine. And just when I was about to argue with him about how MY movie and HIS movie were exactly the same movie, he said, "This time never never again say that thing to me."

"That thing" apparently meant pointing out the fact that my movies and his movies were the same movies.

Recently, in order to downsize, I put all of my movies into a portable carrying case, ridding myself of all of the plastic cases. It saved me a lot of room. Now Nolan and Audrey enjoy leafing through the movies to find one they want to watch. What's perplexing about this ordeal is that they have HUNDREDS of children's movies. I have less than 20.

Despite the fact that they have so many more movies from which to choose, it looks like we will be watching MY movies from now on. Why?

If anybody out there can understand the thinking of a three-year-old, please explain his reasoning to me, because while I pride myself on figuring out the thought processes of toddlers, this particular toddler has me stumped.

In the photo above, Audrey and Nolan sit next to their plastic cup and paper plate creation. Behind them sits just a fraction of their movies.

The Symbol of a Grandma's Love

You probably expected to see a heart, right? Shouldn't the symbol of grandmotherly love be saturated with tones of red and gold to portray its deep and enduring nature?

Obviously the symbol you see here is not blood red, is not in the shape of a heart, and is not anything you've ever seen before. It is, however, an accurate depiction of the sacrifices a grandmother makes for her grandchildren. And it probably requires an explanation.

So why does this symbol appear to be made only of sepia? Because for me sepia represents age. Grandchildren tend to think of even their fabulously young looking grandparents as old, so sepia works well to represent the idea of age. Also I believe a grandmother's love endures through the ages, so sepia it is.

Before I explain the symbolism behind the symbol, I want you to know that the symbol of grandmotherly love could easily work for grandfathers, dads, and moms, but since I created it, I am calling it, The Symbol of a Grandma's Love.

I came up with this particular symbol as a result of what happened to me the other night. Two of my grandchildren, my son's sons (Kaden and Zac), spent the night with me and slept with me in my bed.

After tossing and turning (all of us), Kaden, 5, and Zac, 2 and a half, soon ended up on top of me and perpendicular to me – I'm sure in an attempt to guarantee that I wasn't going to slide out from beneath them and leave them alone in my bedroom.

After having given this matter some serious consideration, I have reasoned that I can understand their perpendicularity in relation to their mom, because other than going back inside her to be as close as possible to her, thereby replicating the time before they were born, they chose lying directly on top of her, spread out across her body. They are particularly close to my son (their dad), too, so I'm sure the kids are spread out across the two of them at various times throughout the night.

Sleeping across both parents insures my grandchildren that if their parents leave the bed, they can grab Mommy and Daddy and let know that THEY know they are about to be abandoned in the family bed.

But why Grandma? As a sufferer from insomnia, it took me several hours to finally fall asleep. All through the night, I removed feet and legs from my body, put them in a position that was comfortable for me, and attempted to fall sleep. By 3 a.m. (that was the last time I remember looking at the clock) I was finally sleeping comfortably until the feet and legs found their way back to my body at approximately 3:15.

Every time I moved the feet and legs throughout the night, in fact, they returned to their previous position – spread out across my body.

At 3:15 I slipped out of bed, grabbed my pillows and a blanket and collapsed on the couch. Within a couple of minutes I was finally sleeping soundly.

At 3:30 Kaden found me and climbed onto the couch to sleep with me. Telling me he was scared to lie on the edge of the couch, he climbed over me to sleep behind me so that he was positioned between me and the couch back. Afraid I was going to crush him, I waited for him to fall asleep so that I could return to the bed where I found Zac spread eagle across the whole bed.

I could only imagine that while Zac slept, he reached out with his feet to find me and fell asleep before his feet found their desired resting place.

So there you have it – the symbol of a grandma's love is one of her sacrificing sleep so her grandchildren will feel safe and warm. The symbol is one of a loving grandmother succumbing to the charms of her grandchildren.

Don't think I'm too much of a saint, though, because I'm already thinking that if I make a body pillow shaped exactly like myself, I might be able, the next time they spend the night,  to switch myself with the pillow they never saw and convince them that the pillow they're sleeping with is actually me. The trick will be figuring out how to create a pillow with a body temperature that matches mine and dressing the pillow in the same material as what I'm wearing when I go to bed.

I'm going to have to leave this blog now as I search for material that feels similar to skin in case they reach over to touch my face. I may not have to worry about that though, because I've heard that my skin may end up feeling like leather. Maybe I should just hold out until then.

The Inside Voice & Old Maid

My grandkids crack me up and I love it when I witness events I can blog about or when I hear from family members something my grandkids (or even my kids) have said or done. I wish more of them would let me know when somebody does something cute or funny (HINT HINT).

Because I'm around Audrey so often, Audrey is the subject of many of my blogs. Kaden, either when I'm with him or when I hear about something he has said or done, makes my blogs as well. Just plug either one of their names into the search area of this blog and you can read more about either one of them.

 This first story is about Kaden, who was probably just trying to help his mom:

We often wonder if our kids listen to us, or for that matter if they even hear us. So we tend to repeat phrases and sometimes find ourselves asking, "Are you listening?" or "Did you hear what I just said?"

My son, Greg (Kaden's daddy), always left me wondering if he was listening to me. He had this amazing ability to be involved in several things at the same time and he could focus on all of them at once. He watched television, did his homework, and listened to conversations going on around him without missing any details. When tested on each component, he could explain what just happened on TV, which homework problem he was working on, and what we were discussing at the dining room table.

Unlike Greg, though, most kids have what I consider to be selective listening. They pretend to ignore their parents, which infuriates us even more, and we send them to their rooms or to the punishment corner or to the bad chair because they didn't pay attention to us.

But let me tell you, they HEAR us and they LISTEN to us. How do I know? Because when you least expect it, they will REPEAT us.

The other day when my daughter-in-law, Michelle (Greg's wife), was yelling at her youngest son, Zac (who is 2-years-old), Kaden (who will be five in February), called out,  "Hey, Mom, let's use our INSIDE voices."

You don't have to wonder where he heard that one.

And now a little story about Audrey:

Old Maid is definitely a game for more than two players. Everybody knows that, but when you're a kid, you just want to play and it doesn't matter how many people are playing the game with you.

So the other day, my five year-old granddaughter, Audrey, and her mommy, Brittney (my daughter), were playing Old Maid. They were the only two playing the game.

At one point Audrey pulled me aside and said, "Grandma, don't tell Mommy, but I have the witch."

If you'd like to read more kid stories about lots of other children, click on Kiddy Kwips.

The photo at the top is of Kaden playing the Wii with his dad. The photo on the bottom is of Audrey.

My TOP TEN SURPRISES about Giving Birth

Pregnancy is an exciting period in any woman's life, filled with a combination of expectancy and anxiety. Concern about the baby's welfare begins at conception, and the entire nine months is pregnant with surprises, not the least of which is the birthing process itself.

During the initial phases of childbirth, women begin to feel what some people refer to as "uncomfortable." I remember calling my mother and telling her I was on the way to the hospital, but not to get too hopeful, because it was probably just gas. In my top ten list of amazing discoveries made during childbirth, counting down from ten, my Surpise #10 – it wasn't gas.

A pregnant woman mentally prepares herself for the anguish of knowing a thousand people will be parading through the room at any given moment, and unless she has been perfectly prepared, she will be as surprised as I was by my Surprise #9 – getting shaved.

Surprise #8 was later discovering that when hair growth begins (almost immediately), those tiny little standup straight hairs get caught in the fabric of whatever you happen to be wearing.

Surprise #7 is my all-time favorite surprise, because this one includes the significant other who, instead of being your helpmate, your stronghold, your soft shoulder to lean on, has to tell you exactly WHEN you will be getting your next contraction. "Oh, here comes another big one, Honey!" Along with uterine contractions, you may experience the same vengeful loathing I felt as the muscles in my eyes contracted into a scathing squint.

Unless you give birth at home, interns and residents will poke and prod your belly. They, along with your husband, watch the monitor in gleeful anticipation of your next contraction. If you're lucky, you will get a doctor who uses her palm to feel the contraction. Surpise #7 is finding a doctor who loves to prod with the points of all of his fingers – on both hands – stabbing you at once and disovering that your reflex is to kick him in the groin.

Reflection time: I remember the first moment of feeling a flutter – a tiny movement, something so uniquely different from anything I had ever felt before, a tiny foot, or perhaps an arm or an elbow pushing me at some midway point in my pregnancy. I remember the exhilaration I felt upon first feeling "life" – so imagine my Surprise #6 – pain so intense I could have crushed the hospital with my thoughts. Nobody can prepare you for that level of pain, because you will probably hear numerous stories about how "I went to the hospital at 3 AM and by 3:01, she just popped out." I hated those people.

Surprise #5 was discovering I would not be able to engage in sex for several weeks. But the surprise was more of a "Why would I ever want to do THAT again," than a whiny, "Oh why not?"

Surprise #4 was a surprise filled with regret – oh why oh why did I not allow you to drug me? Why oh why was it SO important for me to go through a "natural" childbirth?

Surprise #3 actually came when I realized, after experiencing the ultimate joy of being pregnant for nine months, that I was warning myself to "NEVER DO THIS AGAIN – NEVER FORGET" combined with a deep-seated wish that my husband were the one giving birth.

And yet, moments after giving birth, I completely forgot the warnings I gave to myself, the regrets over having a natural childbirth, because my #2 surprise was discovering the intensity and depth of love I felt for this little infant I had been carrying around with me for nine months. Giving birth and the process of releasing a child into the world may have created a void in my womb, but it was instantly filled with a love so deep and so profound, I marveled at my ability to love so strongly and to feel so protective.

But the biggest surprise of all, my #1 Surprise was realizing I would be willing to do it all over again, and again, and again.