New jams

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Bubby and Mac got new jammies over the weekend. Of course, they wanted to show Gramma their cool new sleepwear via text messages from Mommy.

Mac points out the ball on his:

And Bubby points out the, well, Bubby's just a nut.

New jammies are always cause for celebration. Which means it's...

...time for a jammies dance!

It's the little things that make one's day.

For some, that means jammies.

For others, that means cute photos and videos of goofy little grandsons via text messaging.

(Wondering about those videos? I jazzed them up using the Vibop app.)

Today's question:

What's your favorite sleepwear?

Off to school and home again

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This past week was a big one for Megan, Bubby, and Mac.

First off, Megan and Bubby headed off to school for the new school year. I have no photos of Megan's first day of class—adult children are goofy that way, not sharing first-day photos with their mothers. I do, though, have pictures of Bubby's first day of Pre-K and with his new teacher, stolen borrowed from Megan's Facebook page:  

The smile's a pretty darn good sign things are off to a good start.

That's the "off to school" portion of this post.

The "home again" part? Well, that belongs to Mac. Mac who really did not like going to daycare. Mac who, apparently for most of his time at daycare, looked much like he did when he'd had enough of riding in his carseat on their recent California visit:

And much like he looks when he's just plain had enough of anything and everything:

During his first week at daycare, Mac didn't act happy and Mac didn't look happy. He had given  daycare a try, but he'd had enough. And he had no qualms about letting one and all know things just weren't working for him.

Megan searched high and low for a solution to Mac's daily unhappiness. She checked out other childcare centers, she interviewed several home-based care providers. None felt right.

Then she considered nannies. A nanny for Mac did feel right. Especially when the nanny would be Aunt Katie—Preston's aunt and Mac and Bubby's great aunt. A great aunt not only by virtue of her place on the family tree, but great because she does awesome stuff like this:

That's Bubby flying high on the trampoline, thanks to a boost from Aunt Katie.

So Mac is back home again instead of at a daycare center. And happy. With Aunt Katie playing the role of nanny.

Aunt Katie's first day on the job, Mac didn't cry when Daddy left for work. He didn't cry when Mommy left for work, either. He did cry, though, when Aunt Katie left to go home at the end of the day.

That's a good sign, Megan says. A very good sign.

School bells have officially rung. After a wee bit of tweaking and making the best of the challenges, so far, so good—for the back-to-working-mommy Megan, the Pre-K Bubby, and especially for the happily home again Mac.

Today's question:

How smoothly has the summer-to-school-time transition gone for you and yours?

Friday field trip: The Airplane Restaurant

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Not too long ago, during one of my visits to see my grandsons in the desert, Bubby shared with me one of those Bubbyism moments I love so much. We were out on his patio, and he was grilling up some "dinner" for me on his play barbecue grill. On the menu were sausages—which bore an uncanny resemblance to a couple of Matchbox vehicles pretending, for Bubby's sake, to be sausages.

"Take which one you want, Gramma," Bubby said as he held out a bowl of trucks, er, sausages. "There's cheese sausage and plain sausage."

My consideration of which sausage to take must have seemed to Bubby as if I were questioning the options. "That's the plain one," Bubby told me, "Not like a plane up in the sky, Gramma. Plain like nothin' on it."

I, of course, happily chose the plain sausage—which turned out to be infinitely better than plane sausage might have been.

Incidentally, when Bubby and Mac visited in June, we did have plane food. And I do mean plane, like a plane in the sky, not plain like nothing on it. For we ate dinner one night at The Airplane Restaurant (also known as Solo's).

My photo to the right is kind of crummy, as it was an afterthought taken on my phone as we left the restaurant. It does show, though, that The Airplane Restaurant is exactly that: an airplane that's a restaurant. The establishment features a genuine, formerly in service plane—a fully intact Boeing KC-97 tanker—built into a restaurant. Or, more accurately, I think, the restaurant is built around the plane.

Which Bubby thought was pretty darn cool.

The restaurant offers seating for forty-two within the actual plane, with far more seating in the attached building. Unfortunately for us, someone had reserved the entire plane portion for a child's party the night we visited, but they were kind enough to allow Bubby and me to take a quick tour of the plane while we waited for our meal.

The best part of that mini tour, naturally, was the cockpit. Bubby did get a little shy when we toured it, though, as the partygoers filled the tiny space. He was reluctant to pretend to be a pilot, to mess with the dials and such that I just know he was itching to touch.

One especially chatty little party gal was determined to find out Bubby's name, age, what he thought of the place, and if he came there often. Which Bubby found a tad disconcerting. So he gave her limited info...then clammed up and made it clear he wanted only to return to our table.

Even though our table wasn't inside the actual plane, it still had some nifty features that impressed Bubby and the rest of us. We sat right by the part of the restaurant that features the wing—propeller and all. Which Bubby thought was pretty darn cool, too.

Of course, we had to take the obligatory "Bubby's holding up the plane!" shot, which Bubby got a kick out of.

Well, until his arms grew tired.

There was far more to look at than just the propeller. Model airplanes, airplane pictures, plus aviation artifacts and memorabilia decorate the interior of The Airplane Restaurant, from top to bottom and in every corner. Even the table tops are emblazoned with maps and aviation charts.

The menus are printed on newsprint and include airplane trivia, black-and-white photos, and a brief history of the Boeing KC-97 and the Wright Brothers. Being a menu and all, there's also tons of options from which to choose, many of which have aviation-themed names (Flying Chicken Florentine, Air Tower Nachos, Rueben von Crashed) and more. There's pastas, ribs and steaks, seafood, chicken, burgers and other sandwiches, plus full bar options ("Jet Fuels").

The kids menu has numerous kid friendly foods, such as chicken fingers, grilled cheese, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and more. I'm not exactly sure what age is considered "kids", but the options even include top sirloin, baby back ribs, and deep friend shrimp. The kids menu itself provides plenty of space for coloring and an option for leaving the artwork at the restaurant for them to display a while then mail to the artist when artwork is swapped out at the end of each quarter. Bubby allowed Gramma to keep his artwork—which remains on my fridge to this day, as Gramma doesn't believe in changing her art displays quarterly.

Despite the extensive offerings on the kids menu, the food wasn't all that big of a deal for Bubby. The KC-97 and the numerous model airplanes hanging from the ceiling were the real attraction for a four-year-old boy. Mac wasn't all that impressed by the food or the airplanes. Having turned one year old just weeks before our visit, planes and propellers simply weren't his thing. Yet.

 

We'll have to eat at The Airplane Restaurant next time the boys visit. In fact, I think we'll reserve the plane portion of the restaurant next time we go, so both boys can twist and turn and fly the friendly skies as long as their imaginations take them there.

Or at least until dessert is served.

Interested in visiting The Airplane Restaurant? Find details here:

The Airplane Restaurant • 1665 N. Newport Road, Colorado Springs, CO 80916 • (719) 570-7656

Today's question:

When did you last eat plane food (like a plane up in the sky, not just plain food!)?

Feast or famine: The plight of the long-distance grandma

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My grandsons and I had a week-long visit the end of June, at my place. When they left for home, there were no plans in place for visiting again. No plans to visit before Halloween, nor for Thanksgiving, nor for Christmas. Even my annual week of care giving each January when Megan and Preston head off to one of Preston's conferences was off the books.

That is one long stretch—the longest yet in my four years of grandparenting—of having no contact with Bubby, no contact with Mac. Which broke my heart.

Well, my heart is now repaired. And full. And looking forward to not just one trip to see Bubby and Mac in the next couple months, but three. That's right, three!

You see, after being pretty darn bummed about having no plans in place for visiting and the famine we faced, Jim and I decided to just go for it. We booked tickets to visit the desert the first part of October.

Then, lo and behold, just days later I was offered an awesome opportunity with a popular maker of electronic toys, games, and learning gadgets for kiddos. I'd be given great products to share with my grandsons and their friends. I, of course, jumped at the chance. Thing is, my grandsons and their friends live more than 800 miles away. And the introduction of the products had to be done by the end of August.

So guess what? I booked another trip to see my grandsons. For the end of August. (And I'll share details of the affair soon after.)

And trip No. 3?

Well, as many of you know, Megan has gone back to work, back to teaching. Full time. Which can be a challenge at times. Turns out that works to my benefit. Her most pressing challenge is that near the end of October, Megan has school conferences. Which means Bubby, who attends the school at which Megan teaches, has no school that week. Which also means he'd have to join Mac at the daycare center each and every day of that conference week. Which, as you may have guessed, would cost a heck of a lot of money. More money, in fact, than flying Gramma—that'd be me, a freelancer who can take my work with me wherever I go!—down to the desert to care for the boys during conference week.

Megan asked if I'd be up to it. I answered yes. Preston booked tickets—for my third visit to see my grandsons in a two-month period.

A far different scenerio than what I'd imagined as Bubby and Mac and their parents flew away from the mountains and back to the desert at the end of June.

A feast or famine affair, for sure, when it comes to seeing my beloved boys.

Thing is, any time I'm with my grandsons, it's not only a feast of hugs, kisses, silliness, and fun, it's a feast of photos. I stock up on as many photos as I can, to get me through until the next visit. Photos to look at myself, photos to share with friends and family, photos to share here.

Now, as I anticipate another visit—another week-long photo shoot, as Megan says—in mere weeks, I realize I have literally thousands of photos left from our time together in June that I've not yet shared. So today I'm sharing some of my favorites. Okay, I'm sharing lots of my favorites, served up collage-style.

Enjoy this feast of photos! Leave room for seconds, though, as I'll surely be dishing out more soon, to ensure all leftovers are gone before the next round is ready.

Today's question:

What's the longest you've gone without seeing one of your grandchildren or children?

Right versus real

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Bubby and Mac had the privilege of going to California last week. They saw the ocean for the first time, frolicking on the beach and splashing in the waves.

They visited Disneyland for the first time, experiencing the thrills and chills of one of the happiest places on earth. They rode rides at the recently opened Cars Land.

I'm so jealous.

I'm not jealous because I want to have fun in the sun or meet up with Lightning McQueen and the gang in Radiator Springs. I'm jealous because it was the other grandparents who treated my grandsons to the grand weekend trip.

I know, I know, I know: That's not right.

But that's real.

Believe me, I wish I didn't feel that way.

I wish I didn't look at the pictures Megan posted on Facebook—and graciously granted me permission to use—through the green-tinged lens of a jealous grandma.

I don't want to be jealous. At all. Bubby and Mac had the time of their lives, and I'm ever so happy for that, for them. I'm ever so happy the other grandparents are able and willing to do things Jim and I can't.

Yet, I'm jealous.

That doesn't mean, though, that I wish the trip wouldn't have happened. Or that it would have been a bust, that the good times hadn't rolled for one and all. I truly don't begrudge the boys, their parents, their other grandparents the delightful trip, filled with new thrills and chills and colorful fun beyond compare.

Being jealous also doesn't mean I gloated over the not-so delightful parts of their trip. The forgotten sunscreen and the subsequent burned grandbabies. Or the terrifying moments for Bubby when he rode a thrill ride with heart-pounding thrills he's not yet ready for.

Or the equally terrifying moments for Mac when he came face-to-face with the silly-but-oh-so-scary-to-a-one-year-old Sully.

I didn't and don't gloat over such things. I don't want my grandsons to experience pain or terror. Ever. I want nothing but good times, delightful times for them. And I'm genuinely thankful and appreciative their other grandparents—who are good and kind and loving people—help provide rich, exciting, interesting experiences for our mutual grandchildren, so the boys will lead rich, exciting, interesting lives.

That's what I want for the boys. Always. Without a doubt.

Still, I'm jealous.

That doesn't make me bad.

That makes me human.

Today's question:

When were you last jealous of the other grandparents—or your child's in-laws, if you're not a grandparent?