Savor the moments

Jim and I had three daughters in a short period of time. There are 16 months between the oldest and the middle daughters, 19 months between the middle and the youngest. Which means, obviously, our daughters are very close in age. In fact, for one month out of each year—roughly mid July to mid August—the girls' ages are consecutive.

Which also means, obviously, I was one very busy mama while raising them. I felt hurried and harried much of the time, and I rarely stopped to savor the sweetest and simplest of moments with my three girls, from their toddler to their teen years.

I'm trying to not make the same mistake as a grandma.

Things are pretty clear cut with Baby Mac because as an eight-month-old, what he wants, he pretty much needs...and gets. With three-and-a-half-year-old Bubby, though, it's different. His needs are met; his wants are up for negotiation. That's where my tack as a grandmother differs from the tack I took as a mother. When Bubby requests my participation, my attention, I do my best to stop the busy work and savor the moment. As long as his requests are reasonable, that is. And most reasonable he proved to be during my recent visit to the desert.

For example, "Gramma, can you play train with me?" was a reasonable request. So, despite not being one for typically enjoying sitting on the floor—and Baby Mac needing some attention, too—I busied Mac with some blocks, plopped down next to Bubby, and followed his lead of "You be Henry, Gramma, and I'll be Thomas." Moment savored.

Another instance: Bubby's bedtime routine typically features one bedtime story read. One night we finished the chosen book, and I stood from his bed to tuck him in, kiss him goodnight, and head out the door. "Can we please read this one, too?" Bubby pleaded, holding up a book. "It's soooo funny!" So I did, all the while savoring his snickers at "There Was A Cold Lady Who Swallowed Some Snow," savoring his sense of humor, savoring the moment.

When Bubby asked, "Gramma, can we build a fort?" I didn't hem and haw about the mess it would make. Instead, Bubby and I together built the fort to beat all forts, with tunnels and secret passages and cardboard boxes blocking out the light. Moment savored...and video captured of Bubby and Baby Mac savoring the fort again and again and again, with giggles galore as they chased one another through tunnels and more.

At snack time, Bubby wanted his snack in the fort. At naptime, he wanted the bedtime story read—to both him and Baby Mac—in the fort. Both requests filled. Easily. Both moments savored. Surely.

At the park, Bubby asked if I'd climb up the play structure and "play pirate" with him. Baby Mac slept in his stroller, within viewing distance, of course, as Bubby and I climbed and slid and shouted "Look out, Captain! They're after us!" again and again. Moment savored.

Most mornings of my visit, Bubby woke me with a gentle nudge on my knee—except for the first morning when he slammed open my bedroom door and shouted, "GRAMMA! It's morning time!" (My freakout at his announcement led to knee nudges going forward, I'm sure.) One day when I woke before him, Bubby watched me from the open bathroom door and said, "Gramma, after you're done brushing your teeth, will you start your day with me?" Request easily filled as that was my intent anyway. The sweet moment of his request, though, especially savored.

Requests of "Will you jump with me, Gramma?" brought leaps and bounds of joy each and every time we giggled and wiggled and waggled about on the trampoline—which was pretty much each and every time Bubby asked me to do so. And my request to him one night to lie quietly on the trampoline and look at the stars together was enthusiastically met with a resounding "Yes!" That grandson of mine, he truly gives as good as he gets. Moments savored—by both of us.

One of Bubby's favorite cartoons is Olivia, which begins with the inflation of a pirate ship bouncy house. Once, a discussion of bouncy houses ensued after the program began, and Bubby gushed about the most awesome of parties he was scheduled to soon attend. "It's gonna be so cool! There's gonna be a bouncy house and pizza!" he raved. "Do you want to come, Gramma? Maybe you can ask PawDad if you can come!"

This was one of Bubby's few unreasonable requests. Not because I wouldn't be in town at the time of the party or because I'm sure the guest of honor wasn't expecting grandmas to join in. No, I thought it unreasonable—and, more so, surprising—that Bubby naturally assumed I had to ask PawDad's permission to go to the party. My I-am-woman-hear-me-roar sensibilities wanted me to explain to Bubby that I don't need PawDad's permission to go to the party, that I didn't need his permission to do anything. Women, I considered telling my grandson, don't need permission from a man to do anything—we can do anything we choose.

What I chose to do, though, was to not tell Bubby those things. There's plenty of time for him to learn such lessons—and woefully little time that a precious boy earnestly and enthusiastically extends to his grandma invitations to birthday parties with pizza and bouncy houses.

What I chose to do was savor that fleeting moment instead.

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

A moment I recently savored with my grandchildren or children was ___________.

Intentional grandparenting

 

I'm smack dab in the middle of some quality time with my grandsons so I'm taking the easy way out today and publishing an old post—with new photos. I chose this one because as I visit with Bubby and Baby Mac, I'm trying to keep in mind the concept of which I wrote about then. This was originally published October 8, 2010 with the title Gramma's my name, being intentional's my game.

Seems the latest buzzword for grandparenting is intentional. Everywhere I look for info on grandparenting, I find books and articles about being intentional.

What the cuss does it mean to indulge in intentional grandparenting, you ask?

The definition of intentional, according to Miriam Webster, is "done by intention or design; intended."

With that definition in mind, I'd first like to say that I had absolutely nothing to do with becoming a grandma; there was no intention whatsoever about getting the position. A position, I'll add, I was thrilled to accept.

Peggy Edwards, in her book Intentional Grandparenting: A Boomer's Guide, calls intentional grandparenting "a process for planning ahead and taking deliberate action to be the kind of grandparent you want to be."

That definition could apply to everyone -- not just grandparents -- because it seems a good idea to strive to be intentional in all relationships. That said, because I'm a grandma and because I'm a grandma blogger, this here little blog post focuses only on intentional grandparenting. And how I succeed -- and fail -- at it.

There apparently are several tenets of the intentional grandparent game, many which just sound like common sense to me, but here are the rules, according to Grandparents.com:

Intentional grandparents ...

1. Plan special times together.

2. Ask the parents to stay away!

3. Take advantage of the resources around you.

4. The simplest pleasures are often the best.

5. Make a plan, but be flexible.

6. See things through the kids' eyes.

7. Give them your undivided attention.

See what I mean? Common sense. (And if you're confused about the "Ask the parents to stay away!" rule, it just means to spend time specifically with the grandchildren without the parents around.)

So I have most of those down pretty well. As a long-distance grandparent, No. 1 comes pretty easily; I have no choice but to plan the cuss out of our visits. I fully intend to be at his place or fully intend to have him be at my place.

But the one I do best? I'd have to say it's No. 7, "Give them your undivided attention." When I'm with Bubby, he is the full focus of everything I say, do, think. He has my undivided attention. Maybe that's where being a long-distance grandma comes in handy, because if he lived nearby, I swear I'd get nothing done. Every second would be dedicated to him. At least until grandbaby No. 2 comes along. (How do you grandmas of many do it?)

The rule of intentional grandparenting at which I fail? In my mind, there's no doubt it's No. 6, "Seeing things through the kids' eyes." I'm not very good at seeing things through Bubby's eyes. I want to show him life through MY eyes because my eyes have been around a lot longer, have seen a lot more, have learned to filter out that which doesn't really matter.

Thing is, I'm starting to realize that the things that don't really matter to me aren't necessarily the things that don't matter to others. In this case, Bubby. While I'm rushing to show him the cool things at the park or in the backyard or in a book we're reading, he's dawdling and heading toward what most interests his little eyes: the balance beam at the park that he surely can't balance on but that makes a great spot for lining up some rocks; the vines that cling to the trees, walks and walls of the backyard require touching and tugging before we finally reach the rustic metal dinosaur legs sprouting from Gramma's garden; the miniature secondary illustrations framing the page of a picture book are much more interesting than the big ol' drawings that depict exactly what's going on in the story.

I need to follow Bubby's lead a little lot more in such things and work at seeing the world through his eyes. I may see what I think matters; Bubby sees what is magical.

My plan is to work on marveling at the magical, seeing things the way Bubby sees them.

My plan is to work at becoming a fully intentional grandma.

Sometimes even the common-sensical can use a little intentional attention.

Today's question:

Applying the rules of intentional grandparenting to any relationship, which do you think you are most and/or least successful at?

Hanging up my grandma bag

Some of you may recall posts I've written about my grandma bag, my nifty little tote of tricks for entertaining Bubby (and now Baby Mac) when I travel to visit them. Well, I'm hanging up my grandma bag, will use it no more. At least not my original bag, the one that looked like this:  

Because, folks, this grandma's got a new and improved and personalized grandma bag—a Christmas gift from my grandbabies—and it looks like this:

As I pack my new grandma bag for its inaugural use—my trip to the desert next week—I'm reminded of that old camp and Girl Scout game wherein everyone takes turns mentioning items they'll be packing for their trip to Spain or the moon or wherever the group decides they'll pretend to be going. You may recall playing it when you were young or with your kids. One person starts off saying something like, "I'm taking a trip to Kalamazoo and in my suitcase I've packed a pair of long johns." Then the next person goes, reciting what the first said and adding another item. Round and round the game play goes, with the list getting longer and memorization skills being more challenged (with memorization being much easier when there's an alphabetical theme to the game).

That game has been on my mind as I pack my grandma bag for next week's trip. Only my little ditty goes something like this: I'm taking a trip to the desert and in my grandma bag I've packed...Styrofoam bowls, pipe cleaners, pony beads, some drinking straws, a can of shaving cream, a package of aluminum foil, a roll of masking tape...

Why, oh why, am I packing such oddball items? I'm glad you asked, for they're not oddball at all once you see what I plan to do with those things, which are these activities I recently added to my "GRAND kids" board on Pinterest:  

In my grandma bag I'll have all I need for Bubby and me to make, from left to right above, colorful jellyfish using Styrofoam bowls and crepe streamers. They're sure to please both Bubby and Baby Mac and remind them—well, at least Bubby—of our recent visit to the aquarium.

The pipe cleaners will be used for all kinds of creative creepy crawly critters, taking our pipe-cleaner fun far beyond the pipe-cleaner hats and glasses Bubby and I made in the past.

With a handful of drinking straws and some pony beads, Bubby can work on his fine-motor skills and number recognition by threading beads onto straws to match the number glued atop each straw. Flexible drinking straws, with the flexy end opposite the number, can be flexed to temporarily keep the beads on once they've been threaded.

A roll of aluminum foil becomes a stream o' fun when rolled out across the yard, beginning at the water faucet. Scrunch up the foil edges to contain the stream, turn on the water to a trickle, and Bubby and Baby Mac will be mesmerized for hours. (Such wet fun can be had in the desert whereas we'd have frozen fingers and rivers fit only for ice skating if we tried such a thing at Gramma's house this time of year.)

We'll use the roll of masking tape—along with some of Bubby's kajillion cars—just like this:

And the shaving cream? Well, I have no Pinterest picture to share, but Bubby and I already know darn well what good, clean fun comes from mounds upon mounds of shaving cream during bath time. I think it's high time for Baby Mac to give it a try. I'll also throw a bottle or two of bubbles into my grandma bag for blowing bubbles in the bathtub, too.

Additional things I'll be adding to my new-and-improved grandma bag: books, movies, and music, along with my grandma apron to don while cooking up goodies for my grandsons.

I'm taking a trip to the desert and in my grandma bag I've packed...all kinds of things to keep Bubby, Baby Mac and me as busy as can be. I can't wait!

Today's fill in the blank:

I'd like to take a trip to ____ and in my bag I'd be sure to pack _____.