The boys are back in town

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I haven't worked a full-time job in more than four years. It's not because I'm retired, as I'm still far, far away from retirement age. No, I don't have a full-time job simply because, well, that's just the way things have worked out since my department and my job at the local newspaper were axed in late 2008.

Sometimes it really stinks that I don't have a full-time job. Like when I gaze into the dark and echoing chambers of my barren bank account.

Other times, though, it's pretty awesome that I don't have a full-time job. Like when Preston—my son-in-law—has a work conference he wants Megan to attend with him, and they need someone to care for Bubby and Mac while they're away. As someone who doesn't work full time and can carry the work I do any place I can carry my computer, I am fortunate to most often be the go-to grandma for the job.

Which, like I said, is pretty awesome.

That exact sort of awesomeness begins today, as I will once again be on grandma duty for my faraway grandsons. Only this time, it just so happens that Preston's conference is in my very own city, so instead of me flying to their house to take care of them while Mommy and Daddy go away, Bubby and Mac will fly to Gramma's house—to my house—for me to take care of them while Mommy and Daddy play conference just a few miles away.

Awesome indeed. Especially because this time, since we'll be at home in the mountains, not away in the desert, PawDad gets to join in the fun. Same goes for Aunt Brianna and Aunt Andie, when their schedules allow.

Usually when I'm on grandma duty, I stay on blogging duty, too. I write up posts and I publish something new for the Grandma's Briefs readers each day.

This time I'm not doing that.

This time, I'm taking a bit of a break from blogging while playing full-time grandma. Just a bit of a break, though, as I will still publish something each day on Grandma's Briefs, only it won't be a written post. It will be a photo post, a picture of the goings-on at Gramma's while the boys are back in town. I'll include a daily question, too, because that's just what I do...and because I like to read your answers to those daily questions. Daily. Just like I hope you like to visit me. Daily.

So, I will be posting daily, checking comments daily, thinking of my online friends daily. Just in smaller doses, as the majority of my time over the next ten days will be dedicated to showing my grandsons a good time. To be honest and accurate, though, I'll actually be doing those online things nightly rather than daily, as I'll have to wait until the boys are tucked into bed.

I'm sure you understand.

And I'm doubly sure I'll have lots to fill you in on once I return to blogging full force.

One quick note before I go, though: I will still host the GRAND Social on Monday and post a new Grilled Grandma feature on Wednesday. I do hope you'll visit for both, enjoy both.

So there you have it. Wish me luck!

My ten days of Grandma Duty begins ...

right ...

now!

Today's question:

What's the longest period of time you've been off the grid (off line) in the past few years?

Do you solemnly swear?

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Swearing Bubby edit.png
 

Seems Bubby, who will be four years old next week, has learned the power of swear words, and he wielded that power mighty and strong this past week. While in public, at the splash pad. While in time-out at the splash pad for hitting a friend, in fact.

Bubby's time-out is what elicited his use of the illicit language. It wasn't the F-word. Not the GD-word or the S-word. No dad-from-A-Christmas-Story style rant. Bubby did, though, go whole hog in hollering out the H-word. Again and again and again. To Mommy.

Not the H-word you might expect, though, as the H-word flying from Bubby's mouth and directed right at Mommy was hate. As in "I hate you."

My sweet little Bubby told his mommy he hates her for putting him in time out. For humiliating him in public (though deservedly so, I say). For making him stop splashing at the splash pad and sit this one out. Saying the H-word, of course, increased Bubby's punishment by way of he and Mommy (and innocent Baby Mac, too) having to leave the splash pad and his friends so Bubby could be sent to his room until he could find his happy heart as well as words of apology that would sufficiently satisfy Mommy.

It was Bubby's first time swearing at his mom. And in Megan's house—as it was in my house when Megan was young—hate is indeed a swear word. At least when it's directed at people. You can hate broccoli, but you sure as heck better never, ever, ever say you hate a person, no matter how angry you might be, no matter how much you really actually dislike the person it's directed at.

The S-word was a no-no in our household, too. That being shut up. Nope, not allowed in my house back then, not allowed in Megan's house now.

Of course the real S-word and H-word, along with all the expected consonant-beginning cuss words (plus the A-word, too) weren't allowed either. Swearing was a sign of ignorance, I tried to stress to my girls. People only use swear words because they're too stupid to come up with something better, I told them, convinced them...for the most part. (I'm sure they wondered why their mom and dad got really stupid sometimes and spouted nonsensical swear words left and right for unfathomable reasons. It was only occasionally, though. I swear.)

I did understand while raising my daughters, though, that sometimes there really isn't a smart word for saying what's roiling and boiling inside, and a cuss word is the only thing that will properly express the inner turmoil, frustration, rage. So I allowed the girls one swear word, beginning about the time they were in junior high. That one cuss word was crap. To me, crap isn't that big of a deal. Sure, I didn't want them telling their teachers, "This is crap!" or anything of that sort. But if they ever felt so strongly about something that they couldn't muster a more masterful word, they would not be punished for uttering the C-word.

So they did. My oldest daughter in particular. She used that C-word as often as possible. More than I would have liked, to be honest, but how could I reverse the rules for overuse. It would fade, I figured. She was using the power she was given to its utmost ability.

Funny thing is, as the girls got older—and no longer living at home—the younger two stretched their language skills by incorporating some of the formerly banned words into their vocabularies. Occasionally far more often than I'd like. But they're adults, that's their choice. But Brianna, the one who most often spouted crap as a teen, chooses as an adult to rarely swear except to say crap. You know she must be really, really, REALLY angry if the S-word or B-word or any other cuss word besides crap comes out of her mouth. The F-word? Oh, my. I don't think I've ever heard her say it.

(Though I have no doubt she has said the F-word and other choice swear words at times, considering some of the relationship turmoil she's dealt with, and I can't blame her. I'd have been saying EFF this and EFF that and EFF you far more often and far sooner than my fair-mouthed daughter if I'd have faced off with a few of the EFFers <cuss>ers she's befriended now and again.)

I digress...

The bottom line is that...well...that I have three points I'm trying to make but can't seem to pull them together into one coherent closing. So I'll make it easy on myself and on you with bullet points:

  • Bubby is swearing. Sort of. Which is a huge deal on one hand, not so huge of a deal on the other. The huge-deal hand is that he said he hates his mother, which is far worse, at least to me—and to Megan—than if he had told her to EFF off. The H-word is one of the most powerful swear words a child can wield to effectively pierce a mommy's heart. Far more hurtful than the F-word. That's just my opinion; I'm sure there are others.

  • Kids shouldn't be allowed to cuss—yes, not even if Mommy and Daddy get to do it. But I prefer to think it's one of the benefits of becoming an adult, one of the things a kid can look forward to doing when they grow up. Like gambling or drinking or choosing to never eat broccoli or lima beans again. Again, that's just my opinion; I'm sure there are others.

  • That said, though, I do think kids should be given one Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free cuss word to use when the situation—to their thinking—demands. Once more, that's just my opinion; I'm sure there are others.

Actually, I just had another thought, another point to make. So here's a fourth bullet:

  • Maybe what kids and others who don't want to seem crass and foul-mouthed in public should do is use a universal sign much like the finger quotes, but one that designates the fake cuss word. Kind of like when I write <cuss> and <cuss> and <cussity-cuss-cuss> on Grandma's Briefs.

Maybe? Or would that quickly become just as <cuss> annoying as those <cuss> finger quotes?

Today's question:

What happens when your kids or grandkids swear in front of you? What happens when you swear in front of them?

Reminders of Grandma

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I like to ask my Grilled Grandmas to do things I can't do. Specifically, I like to ask them to provide answers that I myself am not capable of providing.

For instance, when grilling up a grandma, I always ask What do you most want to pass along to your grandchildren? The ever gracious grandmas give profound answers I envy, especially because when I ask myself the same thing, a concise answer evades me.

The Grilled Grandma question I've most recently pondered myself is What is one word you hope your grandkids think of when they think of you? The Grilled Grandmas have offered up some awesome words in the past years of me asking them that. But can I answer that myself? Heck no! One word? You gotta be joking, I told myself.

I can, though, think of a whole list of thingsI hope make Bubby and Mac think of me. Today I'd like to share that list with you—prefaced, though, by a brief disclaimer. As Bubby is older and we've known each other longer, most on the list are things I hope currently remind him of me, but they're things I hope will eventually do the same for Baby Mac. Maybe they already do.

Things I hope remind my grandkids of me

  • Colorado—as well as mountains, snow, squirrels, Pikes Peak, and the North Pole

  • hugs

  • the click, click and flash of a camera

  • homemade ice cream

  • Mary Poppins, Jungle Book, and Robots

  • airports and airplanes

  • hot tubs

  • playing pirates in the park

  • water balloons

  • Muddy Buddies

  • black dogs, pointer/pits, and cats

  • movie theaters

Ultimately, though, the only thing that matters does come down to one simple word. That word is Gramma. It's the one word I most want to remind Bubby and Mac of me, the one word by which they know me, the one word that is uniquely me, only me. At least when it comes to only them.

Today's question:

What things do you hope remind your grandchildren or children of you?

Pleasing a picky eater—or trying to

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Bubby is a picky eater. The pickiest, finicky-est little eater I've ever met. That fact has been on my mind lately as I consider the places we'll visit, the activities we'll do, and the food we'll eat when Bubby and Baby Mac stay at Gramma's house in a couple weeks.

I can come up with places to visit. I have no problem figuring out activities to do. Food, though? Well, that's a whole other realm, one in which I'm not as savvy as I thought I might be.

When I visited Bubby and Baby Mac a few months ago, Megan gave me free reign to come up with the meals on my own, with no dictation from her. She did, though, offer a few chuckles when I told her my menu plans. "Well, if you can get him to eat any of that, I'll be the first asking for the recipe," she said in a knowing tone.

I wasn't offering up weird things. In fact, I thought I'd chosen far more kid-friendly fare than what health-conscious Megan typically offers.

Bubby still hated most of it.

My hot dog loving grandson balked at the pigs in the blanket, tearing off every bit of bread while saying, "I only like my hot dogs plain, Gramma." Bubby also loves ham and cheese sandwiches as well as grilled cheese sandwiches. So I figured we'd have grilled ham and cheese for one dinner, to which he very quickly and very adamantly made it clear he does not love grilled cheese sandwiches anymore. "I only like ham, cheese, mayo on white and not grilled," he let me know.

Considering such complaints, I immediately altered my plans for most meals with Bubby. There were a few things, though, did work, were eaten, were enjoyed. Here's are the minor successes I had and the things I'm considering serving again when Bubby visits this month.

Fish soft tacos. Not what you'd imagine a finicky kid eating. Because Bubby loves fish sticks, though, it was simple enough to bake up some fish sticks, throw a few on a tortilla with some shredded cheddar and cubed avocado and viola! Fish tacos. Sure, tomatoes and lettuce would have been nice, but although Bubby loves avocado, he doesn't care for lettuce or tomatoes. Go figure. At least he ate a couple tacos his way. Success!

Triple P kebobs. What? you may ask. Well, Bubby does like pork and pineapple and peppers. And alphabet activities. So I threw the three foods starting with P on a skewer and broiled them. Then I scooted them off the skewer for Bubby to eat. Turns out he no longer likes pineapple but he does like pork and peppers. (See what I mean? Odd child likes peppers over pineapple.) Sort of success...which was good enough for me.

Grape skewers. Continuing the skewer theme, I'd pinned on Pinterest an idea for putting grapes on skewers and freezing them for a frosty and nutritious snack. We packed them for a picnic in the park. They were a perfect complement to the peanut butter sandwiches (no jelly; crusts cut off!) we also packed. Success again!

Colored pasta. Megan eschews anything with carbs, so Bubby rarely gets pasta. I was pretty sure he'd like to give it a shot—the kid did once upon a time like mac and cheese—and there'd be no denying the allure of colored noodles like ones I'd seen on Pinterest. So I boiled up some rotini, drained and splashed with a bit of EVOO, divided it between baggies, squirted a different food coloring into each baggie, squished the noodles around until fairly evenly coated, then returned all bags to one happy and colorful pot. Success! Bubby liked it, he really liked it. Because he liked it, those colored carbs were served as a side for more than one dinner...plus a lunch. (Though that's one recipe I'm pretty sure Megan hasn't repeated since I left, considering the whole carb thing and all.)

My other culinary successes with Bubby had to do with snacks. He's not quite as picky when it comes to those, so my regular ol' Muddy Buddies recipe was well received. And eaten. Believe me, with cereal as its base, I considered serving up a cup of Muddy Buddies for breakfast. I didn't, though. I promise.

The other sweet treat Bubby (and Mom and Dad) loved? Confetti popcorn! This stuff is so good, my friends. So good that after seeing how simple it is to make and how quickly Megan and Preston Bubby ate it up, I made a batch when I got home. Jim and Brianna ate it just as quickly as the desert dwellers.

I found the recipe on Pinterest and it goes, pretty much, like this: Pop enough popcorn to make about nine cups or so. Add salt if you want, and set the popcorn aside in a BIG bowl. Melt six ounces of white candy coating, such as the blocks you get in the baking aisle, or you can use white chocolate chips. Once melted, pour over the popcorn and stir carefully and quickly to coat popcorn evenly. Once coated, sprinkle confetti/candy topping (for cookies and such) on the popcorn. Then spread popcorn out on waxed paper to dry, adding a little extra confetti if desired. Eat once dried...or while drying, if you can't resist. Yum! Success!

Other than repeating those things, I'm still considering what to make for Bubby while he's here. Megan and I have tried pretty much every kid-friendly food you can imagine plus several non-kid-friendly for good measure. But if you have a secret dish or delight you found works with the pickiest of the picky, I'd love to hear it. I'm hoping to get a few more successful meals under my belt this time around.

Today's question:

Got picky eaters? Got picky-eater pointers? Do share!

Weekend projects

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When Jim and I bought our current house nearly five years ago, the oddball place boasted many, um, unique features. One was what the folks we bought it from called an "antique lemonade stand."

A couple weeks ago as I sat in the backyard, with that eyesore lemonade stand in full view, I considered how we might go about tearing it down and putting something cool in its place. Then I came up with a brilliant idea: I would turn that lemonade stand into a food stand for Bubby and Baby Mac to play with when they visit. They got a kick out of the mock restaurant and ice cream stand at the children's museum recently, so I imagined they'd be delighted with a similar plaything at Gramma's.

With that in mind, I purchased some vintage signs, bought a few gallons of paint, hosed down the antique stand, and made its transformation my project for the long Memorial Day weekend.

With help from Brianna, that old antique lemonade stand went from this:

To this:

All spiffed up and ready for me to stock with an OPEN/CLOSED sign, a bell to ding for service, and plastic delights. The food stand will be ready for business by the time Bubby and Baby Mac arrive near the end of June. Plus, I have plenty of paint left over to transform our old outdoor dining set into the perfect spot for food stand customers to enjoy their treats.

I was right in thinking Bubby will love it. When I texted photos of the stand to Megan to share with Bubby, this was her response:

"B said to me (after seeing the pictures), 'I want you to sit down at one of the chairs and after you can come up to the food stand and tell me what you want. And then you can come up to the ice cream place and pick your flavor! I think you want strawberry." :) Nice work, sounds like a busy day!"

She was right, too. It was a busy day, a busy weekend, actually. Not just because of the food stand, though, and not just for me.

Jim had a weekend project of his own—finding the leak in our backyard waterfall. The mysterious leak continually caused the water level to fall and our water bill to rise as we had to fill the feature daily to keep it functioning last summer. Jim's job was a much bigger job than mine, so Brianna and I lent a helping hand with that one, too.

Between the three of us, our backyard waterfall went from this:

To this:

No more leaks!

Two big projects knocked out in one long weekend.

Jim and I agree: We are so glad the long weekend is over so we can finally relax!

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

I'm glad the long weekend is over because ________.

To each his own

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Saturday is Baby Mac's first birthday party. You know, the party I won't be going to. Well, yesterday I mailed the birthday gift from PawDad and me to our youngest grandson. Megan called while I was preparing the package for mailing, and I felt compelled to tell her that I was not including something for Bubby in the box.

I realized it was an issue we'd not yet addressed, the even-steven-if-one-gets-something-the-other-gets-something-too conversation, because Bubby had been the one and only child up until his little brother came along nearly a year ago.

"The package is only for Baby Mac," I said. "It's his birthday, not Bubby's, and I won't be including a small gift for Bubby just because Baby Mac gets something."

"That's fine, Mom," she assured me. "That's not how our family rolls."

I was glad to hear that, as that's not the way our family ever rolled, either, when my daughters—Megan included—were young. As is often the case when a young family and new parents (like Megan and Preston) figure out what traditions and practices they will and will not use from their childhood when raising their own kids, I didn't want to assume Megan would do as we did, not as Preston's family did.

I don't know that Preston's family followed the even-steven-amongst-siblings rule. I'm guessing they didn't. But Megan and Preston may have a different philosophy than either of their families of origin, and I thought it important to let Megan know this grandma still doesn't roll that way and doesn't plan on reversing her rolling motion, regardless.

Baby Mac's birthday will be the first occasion that he receives gifts and Bubby doesn't—unlike Christmas and Valentine's Day and Easter. As Megan says, the event "will be interesting" as Bubby gets an important lesson in not being center stage, not being the primary recipient of all the spoils.

Though some might think it harsh, I wasn't willing to give Bubby any spoils on Baby Mac's birthday. Hence the sole gift in the package to the desert family being just for Baby Mac.

Bubby is usually an empathetic little boy, and Baby Mac's party will be his opportunity to realize that empathy includes not only when you feel bad for another, but when you feel good for them, too. Just as I wanted my daughters to empathize with others—especially their sisters—during good times and bad, I want my grandson to learn the same. I want him to be happy for others when good fortune comes their way, to delight in good things happening to those he loves, even when it's something he would oh-so-much love to happen to himself, too.

Jealousy, bitterness, envy, schadenfreude are all such easily learned feelings, attitudes, behaviors. They come naturally, it seems. No one has to teach little boys and girls such concepts, they just simply happen—even if those boys and girls don't know how to define them, what word to attach to them (or how to spell those words, such as schadenfreude, which I still have to look up).

The opposite of such things, though, seemingly must be taught, require lessons. Things such as compassion, goodwill, and sincere delight in another's good fortune.

Sometimes those lessons are learned the hard way.

Sometimes those lessons are learned the easy way—at least incrementally.

And sometimes those lessons are learned by not receiving a gift from Gramma or anyone else when your brother gets one.

It's a new lesson for Bubby, one I hope he accepts, appreciates, and takes to heart without making things too "interesting" for Megan.

I have faith in Bubby and expect it to not be too difficult a lesson for him. Because at his core, Bubby is a kind-hearted kiddo who usually does consider the feelings of others and willingly takes a backseat when necessary.

And because his birthday is just a couple weeks after Baby Mac's. He'll surely take comfort in knowing that Baby Mac will soon get that very same lesson—and at a far younger age than Bubby did.

Today's question:

Was the even-steven-amongst-siblings rule practiced in your family when you were young? What about with your own children? With your grandchildren?