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?

Photo replay: Tux time

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Baby Mac and Bubby are slated to star in the wedding of their Aunt Megan (Preston's sister) in June. They recently got their tuxes, and my Megan texted photos of the boys trying on their finery, pre-tailoring.

(Yeah, Bubby's a tad pale but, meh, it's a photo from a phone. Still cute.)

Today's fill in the blank:

The last wedding I attended was _____________.

Grandma guilt strikes again

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Through the 20+ years I spent raising my three daughters, guilt was an emotion I wore reluctantly yet often. Daily, in fact. Obsessively. The list of things I—and other mothers, surely—had to feel guilty about was endless.

Did I nurse long enough? Too long? Eat correctly to make the best breastmilk I could? Oh, I should not have had that beer...or the second one. Did I start them in school too early? Too late? Help them enough with their homework? Or too much? And the clothes, the cool and expensive clothes I couldn't afford! I surely damaaged their self esteem making them wear hand-me-downs. Or rag rollers—that made such adorable hairstyles!—the night before special occasions. Or homemade Halloween costumes instead of the fancy store-bought kind donned by their friends. And I didn't sign up often enough as class party mom. And I made them stop trick-or-treating before their friends did...well, at least poor Brianna, the one we practiced parenting on. Sheesh, the ways we messed up that girl. Well, all the girls because we had them so close together...and we were so broke...and I was so strict. But they did get to have pagers. But it wasn't cell phones...or iPads or even computers. MAN! We didn't have a computer until they were in junior high, and then I rarely let them on it without demanding they spend time with Mavis Beacon to practice their typing before they were allowed to play VidGrid. VidGrid? Oh, yeah, I surely warped them letting them watch music videos. Well, in the later years, that is, because I had the parental lock on MTV when they were younger. Was that right to do? And was it right to make them be home for dinner every single night? Go out for at least one sport per school year? Get a job at 16? But not be allowed to work on Sundays because they had to go to church and be there for Sunday dinner? We made them pay for their car insurance, but we didn't pay for driving lessons. Oh, I just KNOW it warped them in some way for me to teach them to drive for the first time in the cemetery. But at least they couldn't kill anyone there. How horrible of me to say that...in front of them. And how horrible to demand they go to college for AT LEAST one semester before deciding if college was or was not for them. Maybe they weren't cut out for college? Maybe the student loan debt was too much for them. Maybe I was too much for them.

I know the guilt was too much for me. Patience and energy and money are all easily exhausted for parents, but guilt? Guilt continues to grow and multiply and take over one's days. At least a mom's days—and nights, feeling guilty about all those things we may have forgotten to feel guilty about during the day.

Thankfully those guilt-ridden mommy days and nights are over for me. And, fortunately, guilt-ridden isn't a defining trait of the grandma gig. That's not to say it's non-existent, though. The past couple weeks I've been faced with a bit of grandma guilt, an especially nagging grandma guilt when it comes to Baby Mac, my second grandson.

Baby Mac will celebrate his first birthday in a couple weeks. The creative invitation designed like a ticket to a baseball game came in the mail over the weekend. Megan has told me of all the bits and pieces going into the baseball-themed affair, and it sounds like it'll be a home run for pleasing ball-loving Baby Mac and entertaining all in attendance.

Thing is, I won't be attending. And I feel horribly guilty about that. Yes, I'm a long-distance grandma so such absences are to be expected. But I was (and am) a long-distance grandma with Bubby, too, and I managed to attend every single one of his birthday celebrations. There have been only three so far, but I was there for them all. Photographed them all. Sang "Happy Birthday" to my grandson at all.

But I won't be doing that for Baby Mac. Because he—and his brother—will be visiting my house for an extended stay just a few weeks after his birthday. So it's silly to pay the money to fly 815 miles to the desert to sing Happy Birthday, eat some cake, take some photos. We'll just have a second party at Gramma and PawDad's when the boys arrive for their visit.

Actually, we'll have two birthday parties when the boys visit in June, because Bubby's birthday is mere days before the boys come to the mountains, so we'll have one for him, too. We have a fun activities planned: one will include a dinosaur museum visit; one will feature a visit to my sister's ranch so the boys can ride Shetland ponies. Aunt B and Aunt Andie will get to attend. It will be awesome.

But I still feel guilty. For not attending my second grandson's very first birthday party. Well, and for not attending my first grandson's fourth birthday party. Their real parties. The ones Mom has planned for both boys. At their own home, with their own friends.

Grandma guilt. There's nothing worse.

Except, of course, mommy guilt.

Today's question:

How does grandma guilt compare to mommy guilt in your life?

Friday field trip: Children's Museum of Phoenix

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On the final day of my recent stay with Bubby and Baby Mac, we went to the Children's Museum of Phoenix. The museum is located less than 10 minutes from the airport, so it was a great way to end the visit—and gave us a spot to play in case my flight was delayed.

The Children's Museum of Phoenix is three floors of fun and one of Bubby's favorite places to play. It was Baby Mac's first time there, and he found plenty of fun himself.

We started on the top floor, with the plan to work our way down. The "Noodle Forest" is the highlight there and something Bubby couldn't wait to show Gramma. Right outside the forest is a paint-with-water activity that proved Baby Mac to be a passionate artist.

It was just the beginning of my last few delight-filled hours with my grandsons:

 

Other exhibits on the third floor include a shopping market, ice cream cart, a "Texture Cafe" for making meals with various materials, a "Grand Ballroom" where you can see the chain reaction from beginning to end, make-believe pickle and pencil cars, and much, much more. It's easy to see why the third floor is Bubby's floor of choice.

The second floor features a "Building Big" room for making forts of all shapes and sizes, a trike wash, and an art studio with ongoing projects (Bubby made a pretty butterfly and helped paint a purple rocket).

On the first (atrium) floor, the main attraction is the Schuff-Perini Climber, a climbing gym like you've never seen before. It's visible from all floors, and I climbed with Bubby all the way to the top...in a dress and thankful it was a rather slow day so Gramma could take her time. The first floor also has a Whoosh! machine of connected tubes where kids can feed nylon scarves through and watch them fly—one of Baby Mac's favorite exhibits, along with the many "Baby Zone" play areas throughout the museum.

The atrium wall is lined with a stunning display of CDs hanging from top to bottom. A museum worker told me children from around the area, including a school for homeless children, wrote wishes on the CDs to be hung on the wall at the museum's opening about four years ago. She said the wishes are touching and sometimes heartbreaking to read, everything from "I want an iPod" to "I want my daddy to come home."

Our visit to the museum was exhilerating—and exhausting. Bubby and Baby Mac were sound asleep in their car seats by the time we made it to the airport, just minutes after leaving the museum. When Megan dropped me off at the departure curb, I opened Bubby's door to give him a farewell kiss; with eyes still closed, he mumbled, "I love you...send me mail." Totally zonked-out Baby Mac got a kiss, Megan got a hug, and Gramma headed for home.

The Children's Museum of Phoenix was a great way to end my visit to the desert. We just might have to make pre-flight visits there a farewell tradition.

Interested in taking a similar field trip? Find details here:

Children's Museum of Phoenix • 215 N. 7th Street, Phoenix, AZ 85034 • (602) 253-0501

(If you want to see the full pictures from our visit or see them more slowly, feel free to take a look in my Brag Book.)

Today's question:

If you were asked to write a wish on a CD like those in the stunning display at the Children's Museum of Phoenix, what would today's wish be?

Photo replay: Grandma's favorite Things

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I always swore I'd never wear a grandma sweatshirt or T-shirt. That was before seeing this one and the related shirts for Baby Mac and Bubby that Megan and Preston brought back from their conference.

I am indeed the Grandmother of all Things—well, at least two of them—and will proudly wear the title and T-shirt.

Have a magical Sunday!

Grandma's ultimate challenge

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I cannot lie: The last couple days caring for my grandsons around the clock has been a bit of a challenge. Why? Because Baby Mac has got to be the most strong-willed bundle of energy I have ever come across.

Baby Mac's steadfast determination to keep up with brother Bubby—who will be four years old in June, compared to Baby Mac turning one year old the same month—has kept me hopping, to say the least. He thinks he should be able to do ab-so-lute-ly everything his brother does, despite lacking not only physical ability but also the common sense to know such feats at his age are sheer lunacy. And when I prevent him from risking life and limb in pursuit of his goal, Baby Mac throws fits reminiscent of my biggest battles with my daughters during their teen years.

Every once in a while, though, Baby Mac chooses to imitate his brother in something that isn't dangerous. For example, after watching Bubby place the ball on his T-ball stand several times, Baby Mac decided to give it a try himself with his own ball. This was the result:

Baby Mac's enthusiasm and obvious pride in himself for succeeding at the task at hand is exactly how I will feel, possibly even how I will babble, once I manage my own task at hand—that of making sure the little wild child survives safe and sound while his mom and dad are away.

Today's question:

What are your challenges—and successes!—of the past week?