Finding balance

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As many of you know, I've had a beef with a particular company with whom I did a bit of freelancing last year. Thirty days ago I filed a complaint with the small claims court in hopes of resolving that beef.

Thirty days ago, my day in court was scheduled for yesterday.

Thirty days ago, I didn't think about the fact that Megan and Bubby would be here on the day I was to go to court.

Well, I didn't think about it until the very moment after I agreed to the scheduled date.

Then I thought about it and dreaded it for the past thirty days.

I didn't want to go to court in the first place, but I really didn't want to go to court during the precious few hours I got to spend with Megan and Bubby.

Meeting Auntie B's kitty.More play time!Turns out having them here was exactly what I needed. They balanced out the stress, worry and soul-sucking of a morning in court* with the smiles, giggles and soul-strengthening of an afternoon with some of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

Sometimes not thinking things through pays off.

This was definitely one of those times.

*In case you wondered, I did come out ahead after my day in court. Case closed.

Today's question:

If you could have a servant (well paid, by someone else) come to your house for one hour every day, what would you have them do?

My answer: I'd have him/her do something different every day, but usually along the lines of dusting, vacuuming, and grocery shopping. Definitely the grocery shopping -- my least favorite chore!

Surprise!

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On Saturday, I had what felt like a million chores to do, in preparation for Megan and Bubby's arrival on Sunday.

My list on the fridge:

  • color my hair (in hopes of Bubby coming up with a new name for me, to replace Graya)
  • mop the floors
  • dust
  • prepare the guest room, including setting up the Pack 'n' Play for Bubby
  • do the catbox
  • finish the laundry
  • nag at Jim to get all his chores done

The only one I was getting very far on was the nagging at Jim. By noon I'd only knocked out the floors, had passed off the catbox chore to Jim and was getting ready to color my hair then hop in the shower.

I washed the gray right out of my hair and as soon as I stepped out of the shower, Jim was at the bathroom door, letting me know Brianna had stopped by.

"Great," I thought. Now I'll never get my chores done.

Then I heard banging on the piano. Jim likes to bang on play the piano sometimes, even though it's really my instrument while the guitar is his. But sheesh, this time he was banging and banging and banging.

I head out to the living room, where Brianna was standing in the doorway. I couldn't yet see the piano. I gave her the "WTF?", then whispered, "Is he trying to break it?"

I walked around the corner, ready to let loose on Jim for screwing around on my old upright ... then I saw Andrea sitting on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. I was a little confused, but figured she'd come to visit on her day off. Then I looked over at the piano ... and it wasn't Jim. It was BUBBY! Banging away on the ivories! With Megan standing over him, laughing away!

Surprise!

Megan and Bubby had arrived a day earlier than I expected! The entire family had been in on the surprise for months, doing their best to catch Mom off guard.

And they succeeded! Here I was, fresh out of the shower, chores not done, nothing planned for a family dinner that night, the Pack 'n' Play not even out of the closet yet. Completely unprepared (and I like being prepared.)

But makeup and dusting and made-up beds didn't matter. My Bubby was here! My Megan was here! I'd have one more glorious day than I expected with my babies.

I love surprises! And I love my family -- whom I often think of as completely incapable of keeping a secret, yet they're getting so darn good at keeping secrets and surprising me.

Yay for the extra day! The dusting truly can -- and will -- have to wait.

Today's question:

What's one time you were genuinely surprised?

My answer: In addition to this time and last time Megan arrived unannounced, I was very surprised by Jim's gift to me one Christmas. It was a book from the 1800s called "Eloping Angels" and I'd been looking for it for a few years. And Jim miraculously found it, bought it, surprised me with it! Yep, I love surprises!

Distance from Grandma a good thing? Maybe ...

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Here's yet another reason why Bubby is probably better off with me being a long-distance grandma rather than us living within close proximity of one another.

(Wait ... I don't recall there ever being previous reasons why he's better off with me living 819 miles away. Oh well ...)

Anyway, a recent study shows that children whose grandparents serve as their primary daycare providers are more likely to be overweight than kids in other daycare situations. And not by just a smidgen. Those wee ones watched by Grandma and Grandpa full time had a 34 percent increased risk of being overweight. That's THIRTY FOUR percent.

I can so understand why that is, though. I love watching Bubby eat. I love giving him food that he loves to eat. I love taking pictures of him eating. My favorite video of Bubby is one in which he learned to say "Mmmm..." -- over and over again as he ate food Grandma fixed just for him.

If I were Bubby's daycare provider, man oh man would that kiddo get to eat some yummy stuff. All day long. There'd be snow ice cream in the winter, root beer floats in the summer, macaroni and cheese for each and every meal -- if he wanted it for each and every meal; if not, I'd make him anything else he requested.

Oh, and there'd be ketchup. Lots and lots of ketchup. Bubby loves ketchup!

So yeah, it's probably a good thing Bubby lives in the desert and I live in the mountains and rarely the twain shall meet.

But we will be meeting this weekend. And I've got five full days to plump up my Bubby's skinny little legs.

Don't tell Megan, but I've already stocked up on ketchup ... and the fixins for macaroni and cheese ... and baked up a few loaves of banana bread ... and a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies ...

Today's question:

What was your favorite food as a kid?

My answer: Macaroni and cheese. Definitely. Oh, and homemade mashed potatoes. I still love the two more than just about anything else. (As long as the macaroni and cheese isn't made with that powdery cheese from a package!)

T minus six days

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Related Posts with ThumbnailsMegan and Bubby are coming to visit on Sunday -- for five full days! Which means it's time to babyproof the place.

It's not like Bubby's never been here before, but each time he's visited Grandma's, he's been relatively immobile. Now he gets around ... a lot. And my house has stairs ... a lot.

The other day on the phone, Megan gingerly brought up the topic of our zillions of stairs.

Megan: "Ummm, have you thought about your stairs, Mom?"

Me: "Yes, Megan, I've thought about the stairs." (How could I not? There's at least one step into and out of every room in our house, plus massive staircases from one level to the next.)

Megan: "Well, Bubby climbs stairs now."

Me: "I know. I remember you telling me that. But we have baby gates. Lots and lots of baby gates."

Megan: "No. That's why I'm saying this, Mom. Bubby doesn't need baby gates. He does stairs now."

Me: "Uh, I don't think so, Megan. Not our stairs."

Megan: "He does fine, Mom. Really. He's a big boy. He's allowed to go up and down stairs."

Me: "I'm not comfortable with that. Nope, not comfortable with that."

Megan: "I kinda figured as much, which is why I'm mentioning it now, Mom. Just think about it."

Is this a crazy conversation or what? I thought new mothers were supposed to be hyper vigilant, chastising Grandma again and again about all the dangers lurking in her home and how to babyproof those dangers away.

But here's my daughter telling me I don't need baby gates in my house of 10,000 stairs? With a 21-month-old toddler on his way? For five days? And with me so proud of myself that I have SIX baby gates in my possession for ensuring his safety during his visit?

Apparently that's six too many.

At least Megan knows me well enough to not spring such things on me at the last moment. She knows I need time to deliberate, time to think things through.

So I've thought this through. And -- call me crazy -- but we will be using baby gates while Bubby's here.

At least five two of the six I have on hand.

Now, is there anything else I need to be sure to not babyproof before Bubby gets here? Any suggestions would be appreciated, as I've clearly not yet figured out this whole grandma thing.

Today's question:

What's the worst accident that's befallen you or another in your own home?

My answer: I fell off the top of a ladder while Jim and I were remodeling our previous house and was quite bruised and battered by the fall and subsequent entanglement with the ladder that fell with me.

Care and keys

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Bubby's "cared" face.Bubby has learned a new word. More importantly, he's learned how to use that word to identify an emotion -- which is pretty high-level stuff, if you ask me ... even though it was the low-level "Yo Gabba Gabba" that initiated his intellectual leap.

Here's the story, according to Megan: Bubby and his friend Ro-Ro were recently watching the Nick Jr. show "Yo Gabba Gabba," something Bubby hadn't seen much of but Ro-Ro was a dedicated fan. At one point, Ro-Ro pointed out to Bubby how scary one of the characters is. "Scare, scare" he said again and again to Bubby, using his vocabulary that's nearly as limited as Bubby's to make it perfectly clear the character wasn't one he or Bubby should ever want to share their Teddy Grahams with.

Fast forward to naptime the next day. Bubby slept for a bit, then Megan heard him singing and playing and happily entertaining himself in his crib afterward. Being the psycho playful mommy she is, Megan decided to surprise Bubby by quickly swinging open his bedroom door to enthusiastically welcome him back to the land of the awake.

Instead, she scared the hell out of the poor kid. And he now, thanks to Ro-Ro and "Yo Gabba Gabba," knew how to express his fear with something more than a scream. Wide-eyed and staring at his crazy mommy, Bubby sadly uttered, "care ... care, Mommy." He was scared -- and he knew how to use the word "scare" to identify that.

Of course Megan felt awful and apologized again and again to her frightened little boy. But he was more than frightened -- he was empathetic to Megan's discomfort at startling her baby so he sweetly smiled at her as if to say "It's okay, Mommy." Then he held out his little arms and said, "keeze," which in the Bubby household means "squeeze," the condensed version of "let's hug and make everything all better."

Sounds like a simple exchange between mommy and son, but it speaks volumes about Bubby's development.

My only question: Why in the world is there such a creepy character on a kids' show that it teaches them how to identify their feelings of fright? Or is that just how kids learn such things nowadays?

I guess learning from creepy TV characters is better than being able to do nothing more than scream and cry when Psycho Mommy bursts into your bedroom unannounced.

Today's question:

What television show do you remember being scared by as a kid?

My answer: "The Twilight Zone" (the original one) -- specifically the episode where the main character keeps seeing changes in a painting on the wall, where a grave is being dug deeper, and deeper and deeper. Scary stuff!

It's starting ...

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Megan was by far my most difficult child, at least during the school years. It wasn't because she was a bratty kid who never listened and tested me at every turn. No, it's because she was so darn super-hyper sensitive. And that tested me at every turn.

Megan was crushed by the slightest of slights. Whether it was her new baby sister looking at her older sister 30 seconds longer than she looked at Megan, the new dog wanting to run around the yard instead of letting Megan scratch his belly, a teacher exclaiming over another child's artwork when Megan had worked so hard on her own, or a friend having another friend ... and actually talking to that friend in Megan's presence, she continually had a broken heart and collapsed in tears the moment it was safe (meaning no one but immediate family was around to witness the meltdown).

Because of the perceived potential for heart-crushing, Megan entered new situations cautiously. Joining in was not her forte. And when she did join in, it took a lot of thinking about it, a lot of internal preparation, and a lot of coaxing from her mom. Megan has a long list of extracurricular activities and accomplishments that highlighted her school years (and beyond), but man was it ever difficult getting her through those activities with her -- and my -- sanity intact.

Well guess what? Bubby has started to show some of the same tendencies. His heart's not crushed as easily as Megan's, but he takes a while to warm up to new situations, to venture forth, to join in.

"He's, well, timid," Megan told me the other day, after explaining a difficult time at an indoor play park.

Timid is not what Megan thought she'd be getting with a boy. In fact, I think (but I'm sure Megan would never admit it) that she wanted a boy so much more than she wanted a girl as her starter child because she knew the hell heartbreak that accompanies oversensitive girls.

But she has Bubby. Sweet, silly, happy Bubby, who's the fearless king of his castle, but outside the walls of that castle, he's hesitant about new places and faces. He needs time to fully vet them, to make sure all's safe and sound. Just like his mom, he needs a little coaxing.

Oh, and he needs to ensure that Mom is and will continue to be nearby.

I feel for Bubby, and I feel for Megan being so vexed by his being exactly like her timidity. I encourage her to let him take it slow, don't force him into the unknown, don't get angry. He'll come around.

But behind the words of encouragement, my mean-mom self is doing an internal happy dance and shouting, "Yes! YES! It's starting! That legendary curse of children exacting upon their moms the very same horrors the moms once caused for their mothers is finally starting to come true."

Payback is mine, all mine! Having a boy instead of a girl didn't release my distressing darling  daughter from the age-old curse. Yes!

There is some consolation for Megan, though. She's fortunate she won't have to deal with the increased insanity that comes with periods and PMS.

At least not with Bubby. But she best beware: She hails from a female-laden lineage, so I have no doubt there's a little girl in her future.

And to that I can only offer these words of encouragement: Be afraid, Megan. Be very afraid!

Today's question:

If you had the opportunity (or nerve) to apologize to your mom for just one thing you did while growing up, what would it be?

My answer: I'd apologize for not going back to pick up the muffler that fell off her old but oh-so-necessary car in the middle of traffic while I was driving it as a teen. I would have been too embarrassed to get it, so instead, I created more stress and financial worry for my already stressed and cash-strapped mama. I'm sorry, Mom!