Bringing out the best

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I have been married a long time. With more than 30 years under our shared belt, my husband and I have seen the best of times, the worst of times, the best in each other, and the worst in each other.

I must admit—as anyone who has been in a long-term relationship might—that not only has my better half seen me at my worst, he's occasionally been the one to bring out the worst in me.

Not a pretty thing to admit about the man I've promised to love until my dying breath, I know.

My husband's not alone, though. My daughters have done a pretty good job of bringing out the worst in me over the years, too. If you have kids, and especially if you have gone through or are in the throes of the teen years, you know darn well how very bad the "worst" in a mom can be.

Regardless, I still love my husband and my daughters. Unquestionably, unconditionally. I hope they feel the same about me despite that worst part of me they've coaxed to the surface now and again. There's something comforting in knowing I can show my very worst side to the ones I love without fear of abandonment.

There's something equally comforting, though, in knowing there are a few souls to whom I don't show that unsavory side, the loved ones who bring out not the worst but the very best in me.

I'm talking, of course, about my grandsons.

My grandsons have magical powers, I believe, for when I'm with them, I am my best, I do my best.

When I'm with my grandsons, I don't demand they be on my time as I'm wont to do with anyone—with everyone—else. No, we move on their time, live by their schedule. 

When I'm with my grandsons, I laugh more, sing more, dance more.

And I swear far less, for reasons needing no explanation.

When I'm with my grandsons, I look on the bright side more often than not. Perhaps that's because all things are indeed brighter when we're together, regardless of the side one may look at.

When I'm with my grandsons, I cook more often, and usually without complaining—even if they complain about what I've set before them, as finicky kiddos often do.

When I'm with my grandsons, I do more crafting and more creating.

I do more reading, too—albeit from books with far more pictures than those I typically read on my own.

When I'm with my grandsons, I do more hugging of little bodies and kissing of little heads.

And I don't sigh heavily or act like they're silly when they say they have owies here or there on those little bodies and little heads. Which is a far different response than when hearing the same from those with big bodies. Not a sympathetic nursemaid am I—except when I'm with my grandsons.

When I'm with my grandsons, I move more, sit less. I listen more, preach less. And I model using manners more in hopes of having to point out one's lack of manners less.

As I stop and look back at what I've written above, I see it's a rather lengthy list of ways my grandsons bring out my best. And as I consider it, I realize this: I should show the same face, have the same demeanor with others. Whether it's my husband, my daughters, distressing relatives, frustrating strangers. I should be my best with all, not just reserve the best of myself for the privileged two.

So I'll try. I'll try to be my best with and for my husband, my daughters, the world at large. I will do that, I will model that, for my grandsons.

In the end it's just one more way my grandsons bring out my best—or at least the hope and intention of me being exactly that.

Today's question:

Who brings out the best in you?

Stylin' grandsons

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When I was a child, I don't recall ever going to a salon to get my hair cut. My mom cut it. I had long, straight hair, so it was fairly easy to trim up here and there. None of the styling sessions stand out as memorable except for one particularly disastrous cut when I pleaded to have my hair cut like my favorite Liddle Kiddles doll. And my mom gave me exactly what I asked for.

Thing is, there's a big difference between the (artificial) hair on Liddle Kiddles and the hair on my head. My wannabee fancy curls, meant to coil and curl gorgeously around my ears, instead looked like horrendous '70s sideburns that refused to coil, lying straight and flat against each cheek...except when the slightest breeze caught them and they flapped up and down no more gorgeously than mud flaps on a moving van.

Surprisingly, that horrid haircut didn't dissuade me from cutting my three daughters' hair. I did, though, unlike my mother, have a minor amount of training in trimming locks, gleaned from my senior year in high school. Having earned all the academic credits I needed, I was allowed to participate in a certification program at the community college during my school hours. I chose a certificate in cosmetology over one in cuisine.

I never actually continued in the program after high school graduation so I never earned my cosmetology license, but my training did come in handy for cutting my girls' hair. (And for once giving Jim a perm. Hey, it was the early '80s. But we won't go there for he might kill me. Nor will I show you the photo of such only because he'd surely kill me, not because I'm not dying to share it here now that it's crossed my mind and I know exactly where that photo is.)

Anyway...

So I cut my girls' hair for many years. They had a salon visit here and there, especially during the years I was a nail tech/seaweed wrap giver, but for the most part, I was their stylist. Even to this day, Brianna and Andrea will ask me at various times to trim up this and that for them between their visits to a real stylist. I don't cut Megan's hair at all anymore...and I certainly no longer cut—or perm—Jim's hair.

My grandsons have had a different experience when it comes to haircuts. Perhaps it's a boy thing. Bubby once underwent a home haircut from Preston and his buddy Scott. And Mac suffered through a near shaving from Mommy for his first cut. But other than those two trimmings—or maybe because of those trimmings—Bubby and Mac always visit a salon for their hair snippin' and stylin'.

I've been lucky to be in town to witness several haircuts with Bubby. A time or two, the salon visit was made into a guys' day out, as Bubby, Preston, and PawDad had their hair done together.

My first time visiting the salon with Mac, though—who loathes having his hair cut—came only recently, during my December visit, when he and Bubby both hopped into the chairs at Supercuts. Here is my record of the experience:

 

PawDad has yet to visit the salon with both grandsons. Maybe we'll be able to fit that in next time he goes to the desert with me.

(And maybe we can convince Mac to get a perm with PawDad. Just for fun...and photos. And I'll be sure to share those photos here, the prospect of murder and mayhem inflicted by Jim be damned! Stay tuned.)

Today's question:

What is the worst haircut you ever received and who was responsible?

Grandparents and childcare: Long-distance grandmas can do it, too

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I must say, I'm one fortunate long-distance grandma. My good fortune—despite the bad fortune of my only two grandsons living 815 miles away—lies in the fact that I get to visit Bubby and Mac at their desert home in just a few weeks.

Again.

I just visited them in December.

And in October.

And in August.

Plus, they visited me and the rest of our mountain-dwelling family in June.

And there were a few times I visited the desert in the early months of the year, as well.

Do I have megabucks that allow me to keep my calendar marked with travel dates to see my grandsons, all to keep my heart from breaking over living so far away from them.

Not at all. In fact, this past year has been particularly challenging for me, in terms of finances.

It's been a good year for my daughter and son-in-law, though. Good in terms of finances because Megan went back to full-time work, and Preston is rocking the financial-advising world. Which translates to a good year for me because all their time committed to work means they need someone to babysit my grandsons.

Bubby and Mac do have their daily childcare needs met by an in-home provider—at their home—thanks to their great Aunt Katie, Preston's aunt. She watches Mac every day and Bubby every day that he's not at his two-mornings-a-week preschool. There are times, though, that Megan and Preston need the boys covered for 24/7 stints Aunt Katie can't cover.

And that's where I come in.

The reason I get to see my adorable grandsons far more often than the average grandma-bear might get to see her grandbears is because I come in pretty handy as a fill-in childcare provider. On Megan and Preston's dime.

As working parents, Megan and Preston have daycare built into their budget. And if anyone reading this knows anything about childcare costs nowadays, it ain't cheap. Gramma, though, does come cheap. At least not any more expensive to fly me there for a week and back home again than the cost typically paid for a week's worth of childcare.

A week of childcare with built-in Gramma time for the boys, all for one low price of plane fare.

Who wins in that scenario? All of us! I win. My grandsons win. Megan and Preston win.

As I added dates for my upcoming desert trip to my new 2013 calendar, I considered how grateful and how lucky I am, and thought that maybe other long-distance grandmas could be just as lucky, if only they took a chance and asked the parents of their grandkids to consider a similar arrangement.

Long-distance grandmas: Ask! Ask if you can help out with childcare for your grandchildren. And ask if they'll foot the bill to fly you to their home to do just that. Then you and your loved ones can win, too.

I'm definitely not the only grandma to do this. In fact, many years before I reached grandma status, I learned a former boss of mine had retired when her first grandbaby arrived and was traveling from Colorado to Chicago on alternating weeks to help cover childcare. Childcare is expensive; the manner in which parents now handle the juggling of it is far different from what we may remember from our own days of raising children while being employed.

Of course there are a few caveats:

  • Some childcare arrangements require the parents to pay for days the child won't be attending, so don't be offended if your offer of services is turned down for financial reasons.
  • It's likely only economically advantageous if you cover the childcare for a week. This could be for a week jam-packed with appointments and events for Mom and Dad, who wouldn't be leaving town, just busy. (I've covered such times). Or it could be a week in which Mom and Dad need to be out of town, be it for a conference or possibly even a regular ol' kid-free vacation for the parents. (I've covered even more of those times.)
  • And it's likely only comparable to the cost of their regular childcare if reasonable airfare can be arranged.
  • Also likely: The arrangement requires the traveling grandma to be self-employed or retired...or willing to use her paid time off from her regular job for the childcare stint.
  • A week as the sole childcare provider can be exhausting, especially for long-distance grandmas who don't care for kids often.

The bottom line: Childcare is a huge expense for families with young children, and that expense may be a bit more palatable if they can fit in some grandma time for the grandkids on that same tab, too.

It's worth asking. Trust me.

Today's question:

What was your childcare arrangement when your kids were young?

Done being good

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Welcome to the day after! I hope your holiday was warm and wonderful.

Here are Mac and Bubby on Christmas Eve, donning festive jammies bedecked with sentiments likely felt by many a child late in the holiday season:

Fortunately for my grandsons: No more Jackson—aka their resident Elf on the Shelf—tattling to Santa about their pre-Christmas misdeeds.

Not so fortunate for their parents: Mom and Dad must now find a new tool to replace dear ol' Jackson, who did his job so very well this year.

Today's question:

While Bubby and Mac (and their parents) will miss Jackson, what will you miss now that Christmas has passed?

Trimming—and tasting—the Christmas tree

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It's Christmas Eve. If you've not yet trimmed your tree, don't fret, as there's still plenty of time. As long as, that is, you follow the lead of Bubby and Mac for trimming the tastiest of holiday trees.

Far more tasty than the typical way of trimming a tree. (And much easier for youngsters this age to decorate than gingerbread houses, too.)

Today's question:

What are your plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? Whatever your plans, may both be merry and bright for you and yours!

Fun at the park

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As much of the country is shivering about now—perhaps even experiencing snow fluttering about to one degree or another—I thought I'd warm you up a bit with some (semi) warm shots of what my grandsons and I did on our last afternoon together in the desert on Tuesday.

Fun at the park with Bubby and Mac:

There was no one there to capture a picture or two of the three of us sliding down the twirly slide together in what we dubbed "the Gramma Train Slide," but you can imagine it was lots of fun for all three of us. You also can imagine Mac saying "gain!" after each time, in hopes we'd board the Gramma train another time or two.

It was a delightful way to end my stay in the desert.

(Note: Because the slide show crops my photos a little funny, you're welcome to view the original pictures—plus a shot of the boys' reaction when a park caretaker arrived on his riding lawnmower—in my Brag Book, if you'd like.)

Today's Christmas-y question:

Which Christmas song's lyrics have you memorized better than any other?