Big whoop

After nearly nine months — an eternity to a toddler — of continual talk about the baby brother he'd soon have, the introduction to the real live thing was rather anticlimactic for Bubby.

All the gadgets in Mommy's hospital room proved far more interesting than the little bundle of joy.

Though there was a wee bit of interest.

Even more so in Mommy's bracelet, it appears.

Bubby offered one sweet pose...

...then he was off, done, ready to hit the road.

What more can you expect from a nearly three-year-old...especially one itching to head back to GiGi's, his paternal great grandma, where he received the royal spoiling treatment while Mommy and Daddy tended to baby brother delivery and duties.

Photos courtesy of Preston.

Today's question:

Who spoils you most? And whom do you most spoil?

Grandma's big boy

As Megan and Preston further introduce Bubby to the concept of being a big boy—a big brother—they last week graduated him from his trike to a big boy bike. With training wheels, of course.

Luckily they purchased a helmet to go along with the bike. Bubby's still figuring out how to work the big boy brakes, and Megan reports that there certainly would have been a hospital visit over the weekend if not for the now-scuffed helmet.

In addition to working on braking, Bubby also has yet to master taking turns a little less tight. One particularly tight turn resulted in a tumble off the bike. Megan said Bubby stood up, shook it off, then climbed right back on, exclaiming, "I still learning."

Let's hope Bubby has the same determination and consideration for the learning curve when it comes to officially graduating from "one and only" to "big brother" status. Time will soon tell.

Photo courtesy of Megan.

Today's (unrelated) question:

If you could give anonymous advice to any one person, to whom would you give it and what would it be?

Pine cones, pain, and peanut butter

I mentioned in yesterday's post that the book Grandma's Bag of Tricks: Toad Cottages & Shooting Stars is a great boredom-busting book. It's also an awesome need-a-mellow-activity-while-recovering-from-tonsil-and-adenoid-surgery book. I can vouch for that because that's exactly what it offered up for my recent visit to see Bubby while he healed from his surgery.

The mellow activity I chose to do with Bubby was to make a pine cone bird feeder, using the pine cones I packed away in my Grandma Bag for the trip. (I lugged them along because while I have far too many pine cones in my yard in the mountains, they're nowhere to be found in Bubby's yard in the desert and he didn't even know what pine cones are.)

This is how the activity went:

First you take the pine cones ...

Then you add a wire to the top and coat them with peanut butter:

You taste the peanut butter, of course:

Then you spread a little more on the pine cone:

You roll your coated pine cone in birdseed:

And realize too late that tasting the seed probably wasn't such a good idea:

You finish the feeder:

And take a break because your throat hurts so cuss bad (maybe as much from swallowing peanut butter and seeds as from the T&A surgery):

Next, you hang your completed bird feeder in the yard:

And smile so proud for a job well done:

Then you sit back and wait for birds to arrive. Or for a dog, enticed by the scent of peanut butter, to nab the low-hanging fruit and gobble it down within a day of being hung. Which Roxy did. Twice.

So you complete the process all over again (thankful that Gramma brought spare pine cones and seed) and hang your new feeder up for the birds ... only this time you hang it high enough that Roxy can't reach it.

Today's question:

What is your latest project, completed or still in progress?

Letter to my only grandson

Dear Bubby,

Your little brother will soon arrive and before he gets here, I wanted to tell you how very special it has been to have you as my first grandson, my only grandchild for the past nearly three years. In the seemingly short 35 months since you were born, you have rocked my world in ways I never imagined could happen.

Your entry into the family stretched my heart as it had never been stretched before. My heart swelled so as I held you, hugged you, swaddled you like the sweetest little burrito and kissed your downy face, a replica of your mommy’s 24 years before. That first time I left you to return home, my swollen heart burst into a million pieces at having to leave you, my arms literally ached for you for weeks after — muscle memory most raw.

Your mommy and I did our very best to ensure my arms would hold you as often as possible despite all the miles between us. Every couple of months, I would visit your home or you would visit mine. My heart would sing and swell again as my arms held you. But each time we were together, the amount of time holding you became less as you became so much more. So much more active, so much more silly, so much more independent, so much more boy.

The “boy” experience was a new one for me, as your mommy, Aunt B and Aunt Andie were my only babies, and baby girls are far different from baby boys … and not just when it comes to changing diapers. You were more active, more daring, more monkey-like than any of my girls. Stories from your mommy about the bruises and bangs and head-bonks you’ve endured while jumping off furniture, racing your cars around the house, playing chase with Daddy, and wrestling (and riding) Roxy made my heart swell in a different way: with panic and fear for your safety and well-being. But also with pride that your mommy, as protected as she was by me, had learned through you how to let go and let you be who you are, what you are: all boy.

I’ve loved your rough and tumble all-boy antics. Such pleasure comes from watching you run through the house, giggle your way down slides, chase after balls and balloons and bubbles, tussle with your dog, build tower trucks, race fire trucks, wholeheartedly adore garbage trucks, and furiously peddle your bike while calling for me to "be police” and chase you.

Part of what makes such things doubly delightful is the flip-side of those times. The sweet blown kisses and “squeezes” and “cheeses.” The moments snuggled together sharing books. The steadfast attention given to coloring, drawing, gluing, Play-Dohing, creating. The singing, dancing, smiling, sharing. Your newfound ability to joke, to compliment, and to say the truly darnedest things I've ever heard (especially when you lock yourself and Gramma out of the house).

My great and goofy — and downright gorgeous! — grandson, you were my first. You were the one to make me a grandma, to teach me that although my heart can break into a million pieces upon leaving you, it will grow back bigger and stronger each and every time I think of you, see you, hug you, hold you, hear you.

I am better because of you. I became “Gramma” because of you. And for that, my sweet Bubby James, you will always and forever be a most special part of this grandma’s soon-to-be-expanding-again heart.

I love you!

Gramma

Today's question:

When does your heart feel most swollen to capacity?

Road to recovery

For Bubby, the last five days were a road filled with icky medicine, popsicles, no appetite, pain, rough nights, and more popsicles during his recovery from tonsil and adenoid removal.

Today, things are nearly back to normal for him.

For me, the last five days were a road filled with hugs, cuddles, popsicles, reading picture books, playing "police" on the patio, bathtime, and some silly statements I'll never forget while visiting Bubby during his recovery from tonsil and adenoid removal.

Today, things are back to normal for me.

I have to admit, I think I got the short end of the stick in our return to normal. (Although I begrudge Bubby the long end of that stick not one eency teency iota!)

Today's question:

What has been the highlight of your week so far?

Pint-sized patient

Now that it's over, per Megan's request that I wait until it's done, I can now tell you that Bubby made it safely through his tonsil and adenoid surgery yesterday. Although originally scheduled to spend one night at the hospital (with Mommy) because he's so young, Bubby did such an awesome job of recovering quickly that he got to go home mere hours after the surgery. After he got his promised ice cream, of course.

I'll be flying to the desert tomorrow to help out with nursing-and-popsicle-serving duty during the hours Mommy and Daddy have to be at work. While I'd be thrilled to rock and hold him as he recuperates, if needed, I'd be even more thrilled if Bubby bounced right back to 100 percent and we could be out and about hunting down javelinas during my visit.

Whatever his condition, I can't wait to see the brave little guy.

Today's question:

Raise your hand if you've ever seen a javelina. If not, what's the most unusual animal you've ever encountered outside of a zoo?

Of kids and conflicts

Will ALL my grandkids be as delightful as Bubby?Anyone who has worked with kids knows that you don't like every single one of them equally. Some of them you may not really like at all.

Or is that just me?

When I was a Girl Scout leader, there was one particular girl who, naturally because I didn't care for her, was in my troop every single year for several years. And every single year for several years she drove me nuts. She was quite spoiled and a "mean girl" and "queen bee" in the making. She interrupted. She demanded attention. She demeaned the other girls. She strove to be the star of the troop, the class, the musical performances at school. And she had no qualms about stepping on her fellow Girl Scouts and classmates in her climb to getting her own way.

Yes, out of the twenty-plus kids I worked with regularly, this one spoiled girl irked me to no end. And my daughters knew my feelings for her. Once, in the heat of the moment while arguing with the girl, Megan let fly that I didn't like the girl. So I received a phone call that evening from Ms. Spoiled Girl's mother and I had to backtrack to save face ... and supposedly the feelings of the youngster. (Although I doubt her feelings were hurt; I'm pretty sure it was simply another manipulation tactic. Yes, she was only in third grade, but trust me on this.)

That was years ago. I currently work with a passel of kids again in my tutoring site coordinator stint. They're all pretty darn good kids. Thankfully, none are as annoying as Ms. Spoiled Girl, but I definitely don't adore each and every one of them.

Which has set me to wondering: As a grandma of lots and lots of grandchildren (which I hope to eventually be), will I like each and every one of them? I will surely love them all to their very core, but will I like them all? Will I get along with them all?

I clearly, truly, and deeply love and adore each and every one of my daughters. Equally but differently. And I sincerely like each one of them. Yes, there's often one of them doing something to annoy me, but the role of annoying daughter consistently changes. Never have any of the three reached the point that I can say I dislike them. But it might be different with children compared to grandchildren. My daughters are mine, I made them who they are. To a certain degree, at least.

With grandchildren, I'm not in charge of molding and shaping their character, thus not responsible for how they turn out (thankfully). So I'm not entirely sure they'll turn out flawless ... or at least free of annoying traits that rub me the wrong way.

I've not seen Bubby in nearly two months, but Megan reports that his "terrible twos" have hit full stride just as he's reaching the end of his second year. As any toddler does, he argues, he resists discipline. Heck, it sounds like he pretty much resists everything. Although he does know better than to continually say "No!" so he opts instead for saying "I don't want to." Equally frustrating for Megan and Preston as a "no" would be, I'm sure.

But as I said, Bubby is two. Nearly three. Nearly through the phase highlighted by battles of will. There will be more to come, I have no doubt, some likely even with me at some point through the years. I can't imagine, though, that Bubby will ever annoy me regularly, be considered a kiddo I'd rather not be around. I simply don't foresee such a scenario with my only grandchild. At all. Ever.

What worries me is that Bubby won't always and forever be my only grandchild. In fact, it's only a few more weeks before Mac makes an appearance. What worries me more is that I know myself, and, as I mentioned above, I know I'm not enamored with every single kid I come in contact with. What worries me the very most of all about that is the possibility that one of the kids I'm not enamored with may turn out to be one of my grandchildren.

Is that possible?

Today's question:

Have you had personality conflicts with other people's children? What about with your own grandchildren?