Photo replay: Walking partners

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My walking partners for the week:

Baby Mac & Bubby — April 18, 2012

They'll surely be easier to keep up with than Mickey and Lyla. Especially because if we happen upon a wild animal, they'll run from it rather than to it like the dogs do. I hope.

Happy Sunday, one and all!

Snickers, smiles, and laughing out loud

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I'm not one to laugh out loud a whole heck of a lot. I'm a fairly happy person, I've got a pretty active funny bone, but I tend to snicker or chuckle or just plain smile at things that might make others literally LOL.

Except, of course, when it comes to my kids and grandkids.

My daughters make me laugh out loud. Often. Once, when Megan and Andrea (my youngest two) were away at college, they came home for the weekend. The Monday they left, I spent a good while trying to figure out why I had such pains in my ribs, as we'd definitely not done a whole lot of physical activity while they were home. We did, though, laugh and laugh and laugh, and I eventually realized my ribs hurt so much because I'd been laughing so hard all weekend long.

My grandsons make me laugh out loud, too. I think grandchildren make most grandparents laugh out loud on a fairly regular basis. Which is why I ask the Grilled Grandmas, "Describe a recent time that one (or more) of your grandchildren made you laugh out loud." I love the stories the grandmas relate.

Because my grandsons live so far away and I only see them every couple months, my grandchild-induced LOLing happens only every couple months as well.

For the most part.

A few days ago, despite the 815 miles between us, my grandsons made me laugh. Out loud. By myself. And then again as I shared the story with Jim.

Megan texted me pictures of Baby Mac and Bubby on Monday, each preceded by her caption for the photo. The first two were certainly cute. It was the third, though, that elicited the elusive LOL from Gramma.

FIRST TIME IN A POOL

BRING YOUR SWIMSUIT!

THEIR REACTION TO ME IN MY SWIMSUIT

Baby Mac seems to have gotten quite a kick out of Mommy's poolside fashion. Such a silly, silly boy.

Turns out, though, it was Mommy who was silly. Megan admitted in a later phone call that her attire wasn't really the reason Baby Mac was laughing so hard; she just thought it would make a cute caption.

And it did.

And it made me laugh.

Out loud.

Like I said, my grandsons and my daughters are the ones most capable of making me laugh out loud.

Even if one particular daughter is a big ol' liar.

(Or maybe just a mom who would rather be considered a liar than a swimsuit-clad laughing stock to her sons.)

Today's question:

Who makes you laugh out loud the most often?

Nine in five

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Nine things I've learned in the last five days:

1. I will never again use Kool-Aid to color Easter eggs. The colors aren't vibrant, purple turns brown, green is impossible (even if you mix yellow and blue), and the color doesn't stay on the eggs very well at all.

2. Woodpeckers will from now on be called Woodeffers by me because they do nothing but eff up the wood on the side of my house. And they chuckle from the trees when I chase them off, only to return to their previous effing pecking spot the instant I go inside.

3. Traditions started in childhood continue to matter—as much to my daughters as to me.

4. Photos sent via text messaging are the next best thing to Skype which is the next best thing to being there.

(Though it would have been nice to be there to hug Baby Mac, who looks a wee bit scared of—or, more likely, annoyed by—Mr. Bunny.)

5. Popping Vitamin E pills really does help with cracked heels. Literally popping the pills, that is, and rubbing the oil into your heels.

6. I can't get enough Bones. The series. We may be late comers to the series, but thanks to instant streaming on Netflix, Jim and I are well into the fourth season and never at a loss for what to watch on TV despite having canceled cable several months ago. (And we will surely be just as sad to end the marathon viewing sessions as we were when we finished Lost. And Firefly. And Lie to Me. And Friday Night Lights. And Sons of Anarchy.)

7. Jim is dead serious about preferring chocolate desserts over any other kind. Even ones that look—and taste!—as delicious as the Mini Cheesecakes I made for Easter dinner.  

8. I'm no longer compelled to stay awake until my children come home after a night out, proven by my being sound asleep when our Easter weekend houseguest, Andrea, went out with friends Saturday night and got home well after the bars had closed.

9. Despite huge changes to the dynamics and logistics over the past several years, the best part of each and every holiday has remained the same: time with my favorite people, my family—all except the desert dwellers, of course.

(Even when they're dorks like Brianna and Andie and unwittingly wear the very same outfit on the same day.)

Today's question:

What have you recently learned?

Lesson learned

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Not long ago, I wrote in this post of Bubby's utter and undisguised disappointment in the gift I sent him for Valentine's Day. He made it perfectly clear then that little boys want toys not something practical in the gifts they open from their grandma.

So when looking for small gifts to mail to Bubby and Baby Mac for Easter, I thought long and hard about my choices, hoping to hit the mark on two counts: 1) they were toys, and 2) they were toys my grandsons would like.

For Bubby the Batman fanatic, I found a set of action figures that featured Batman, Robin, and a motorcycle. For Baby Mac—who truly wants for nothing because Bubby has it all and shares it all—I opted for a stuffed Mickey Mouse. According to Megan, he loves Mickey and Bubby never did, so there were no Mickeys in the house.

The day the package arrived, Megan texted me the following photos of the boys upon first opening their Easter gifts from Gramma. 

I think Gramma did okay this time.

Lesson learned.

Today's question:

What was the highlight of your Easter/Passover holiday?

Bad grandma

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I've always fancied myself a pretty darn good grandma, one who goes out of her way to spread love and joy and special acts of kindness and self-sacrifice all for the sake of her grandsons.

A conversation I had with Megan over the weekend made it clear my delusions of grandmotherly grandeur and goodness may be exactly that—delusions. I'm not all that good. And not all that self-sacrificing. At least not all the time.

I'm scheduled to soon babysit Bubby and Baby Mac for the longest duration I have yet. It's a stint of nearly 10 days on my own—no Megan, no Preston, just me and the boys at their place. Such a stint feeds into my "I'm a good grandma" belief.

Well, Megan and I were discussing this and that over the weekend, and she just so happened to mention that Bubby has started pooping his pants. On a fairly regular basis. This is a kid who's been potty trained for, gosh, well over a year.

Sure, potty-training regression is to be expected when there's been a big change in a little one's life. But Bubby's big change happened nearly a year ago when Baby Mac came along. And several months ago when they moved into a new house. No poopy pants at the time of either of those events.

Now, though, Megan reports that at least once a day Bubby will traipse off to a corner where he thinks he's hidden and do the dirty deed in his big boy undies...then wait quite some time before telling Mommy about it.

Megan's perplexed. And I'm concerned only for myself.

"Yuck! You sure as heck better have that all figured out before I get there," was my instant, unfiltered response. "That's definitely not something I want to deal with."

Yep, I'm a bad grandma. A bad grandma who has no problem whatsoever changing poopy diapers of newborns, infants, even young toddlers who've not yet been potty trained. But big butts of big boys who have fairly big poops is, like I said, definitely not something I want to deal with.

Megan's researched solutions and is working fervently to bring success.

I'm crossing my fingers that success comes sooner rather than later. Only 16 days til I head to the desert. And only 17 days til I get really unhappy if I have to clean up poopy pants on a boy who's nearly four years old.

Today's question:

When did you last change a poopy kid—diapered or otherwise?

Photo replay: The obsession continues

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Thursday was dress-up day for Bubby at preschool. All the kids were to dress as their favorite character from a book. Megan checked in advance and all books—including comic books—were acceptable inspiration.

Naturally, Bubby chose the following character:

Clearly my grandson has an obsession. One my daughter is enabling, to be sure.

Today's question:

Who is your current favorite character from a book? (And don't worry—I won't expect you to dress like him or her.)