The flu and what I didn't do

I have a tendency to think rules and statistics don't apply to me. Not because I consider myself above others, but simply because I prefer to be an optimist and assume good things will happen, not bad.

Most times such positive thinking yields benefits. Recently, though, such positive thinking left me laid up and sick as a dog.

(Quick aside: As I pet my dogs yesterday morning while in my sickly state, I pondered that phrase, as my dogs are never sick. The phrase makes no sense.)

Anyway, what happened is this: For quite some time, I had it on my calendar to go visit Bubby and Mac at the end of January. Then, days before my visit, Bubby was confirmed as having the flu, and it was highly likely Mac would come down with it, too. The question arose regarding if I should cancel the trip, considering my MS and what exposure to the flu might do.

I chose to visit them anyway. I assured my daughter—their mother—there was no need to worry because I'd be just fine. And when Mac avoided the flu but came down with bronchiolitis during my visit, I again assured my daughter I'd be just fine.

And I was fine—while I was there. The day after I returned home, though, the super bugs from those little boys settled in, leaving me, well, sick as a dog.

So yesterday, in my sick-as-a-dog state, what did I do? Well, of all the things I should have done, here is what I didn't do:

• I didn't walk my dogs.

• I didn't write the book reviews I need to write.

• I didn't comment on the blogs I should have.

• I didn't complete three articles I was on deadline to write.

• I didn't shower until 4 p.m. (Though I did brush my teeth.)

• I didn't put on makeup nor do my hair after that shower.

• I didn't email sources for an article I need to write.

• I didn't respond to the gazillion emails I should have responded to.

• I didn't write the half-gazillion emails I should have written.

• I didn't read.

• I didn't write.

• I didn't even listen to any music.

What did I do?

I sat on the couch, wrapped up in an afghan with one of my cats, each of my (non-sick) dogs on their beds nearby and watched episode after episode of Downton Abbey—a show whose spell I didn't think I'd fall under but figured I'd see what all the hoopla is about.

What did I learn?

I learned that the rules and statistics do apply to me. Especially when it comes to catching the flu. Doubly that when it comes to being charmed by Downton Abbey.

(Though I've yet to learn why 'sick as a dog' is an acceptable phrase.)

photo: Marin-FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Today's question:

When were you last sick as a dog?

5 jobs I would take even if they didn't pay much

I have many friends who are writers, former associates of mine from my newspaper days. Writers, like so many others, are having a rough go of it lately, especially as so many journalists, writers, and reporters have found themselves without a printed publication to write for in the past few years. It makes for a very crowded, competitive playing field.

One writerly friend of mine mentioned she's considering a job at her local library, a job that pays far less than she's worth, but at least it's something. I considered such a job myself and am quite sure that performing the duties of a page at the library would be just fine with me, even though it wouldn't pay much at all. I love books, would be happy to be surrounded by books. A mere smidgen of income would be acceptable in such a circumstance.

Working as a library page is just one low-paying job I'd happily work to help pay the bills while continuing to write. Here are a few more:

5 jobs I would take, even if they didn't pay much

Movie reviewer — As any long-time reader of Grandma's Briefs knows, I love the movies. I go to the movies. Far more often than I can really afford. So if someone were to pay me even just a small amount to go—and pay for my ticket as well—I would happily go to movie after movie and review movie after movie. Even the blockbusters, which are not my favorite flavor of film.

Research assistant — I'm pretty good at researching things. My family regularly comments on how I'm one of the smartest people they know. I'm really not smart, I just know where to find answers to most any question. I'd be happy to find answers for others all day long. That is, of course, unless they're looking for answers related to mathematical mind-benders such as the Pythagorean theorem or some such something or another. I'm a word person, not a number person. Give me research work that results in words and I'm all over that, even if it doesn't pay much.

Elephant feeder — What? An elephant feeder? Well, yes, I'd happily feed elephants at the zoo all day long. Elephants are pretty cool animals. I might even go so far as to feed giraffes, too, possibly throw a few fish for the seals while I'm at it. Monkeys, well, they seem a little too much like humans, which kind of creeps me out, so they'll need someone else to keep their tummies full. But the other animals? I'm there, even for low pay. As long as poop scooping and similarly unsavory tasks don't fall under the Other duties as assigned category in the job description.

Radio disc jockey — I've always had a secret desire to be a deejay. Even if it didn't pay much, I would do that. No one would have to see me, so I think I could be quite charming and effective as a radio personality. But only if I don't have to play any of that screaming <cuss> kids nowadays listen to. I'm not talking about bands like Pearl Jam or Linkin Park or Metallica or music-makers of that ilk; I can handle those bands, have seen those folks live. I just don't want to play screamin' meemies such as ... well, I don't even know the names of today's screamin' meemies, the ones that make me want to scream myself when I hear them on the radio or blasting from a nearby vehicle. Other than those unnamed screamers, though, I'd happily play music of all different sorts, even if they didn't pay me much to do it.

Baby cuddler — Newborn babies in the ICU need cuddling, and there really is such a job. I interviewed a baby cuddler once upon a time, in fact. Baby cuddlers cuddle and rock the tiniest of the tiny babes born too soon or with medical issues of some sort. What a perfect job for a grandma. It's not actually a job at my local hospital, though, it's a volunteer position. And because it is such a fab volunteer position, there are many grandmas clamoring to make a difference simply by cuddling. Which means there's a long, long waitlist of grandmas hoping to be accepted for the position. The non-paying position.

Thing is, I know of an even better position. My grandsons may not be babies, but they do like to cuddle with me, and the position of Grandson Cuddler just so happens to be currently vacant and available. Bonus: There's no waitlist for that specific position! My only wait is waiting for my flight one week from today, at which time I'll head to the desert to do exactly as the position demands—cuddle my grandsons.

Grandson cuddling doesn't pay in ways that help pay the bills, of course, but that's fine with me. It's the one, the only job I would take even when there's absolutely no pay at all.

(Plus, my grandsons are a teensy bit easier to feed than elephants. Most of the time.)

photo: Wikimedia Commons

Today's question:

What job would you take—other than Mom or Grandma—even if it didn't pay much?

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

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?

Good riddance, 2012: An open letter to one of the worst years yet

Dear 2012,

I had high hopes for you. After the economic mess 2007 and 2008 left us in, I had heard you were the one that would finally set things right, bring us back to the normal we had grown to know and love—even though we knew not then how much we did indeed love that normal.

Instead, you brought us still not enough jobs, still lower home values, followed by drained retirement accounts and higher credit card debt as we scrambled and sputtered, using the very last of our coffers in hopes of riding out the seemingly endless storm.

All the while, our leaders and leader wannabes spewed blame and hate and divisive dithering. We struggled. They stewed. Nothing changed—except that Eddie Vedder's lyrics of "there ain't gonna be any middle any more" gained further relevance.

Political posturing and financial calamity far and wide were merely two of the travesties of your term. For you hooked up with Mother Nature and the fallout of that toxic relationship reigned upon the innocents. Floods, hurricanes, snowstorms, wildfires, crazy extreme events and temps like Ms. Nature has never before cast upon us.
 
Natural tragedies were not the only shock from you, 2012, the only irreparable damage to innocents—and innocence—across our land. No, unnatural, unimaginable tragedies of a human sort rocked us worse than any hurricane you treated us to. Wars in faraway places hurt our hearts as we watched footage, read reports, yet it was the unexpected gunfire in our own states, cities, neighborhoods that shook our souls, shattered our hearts. And here we are, still trying to pick up the pieces, still trying to make sense where there is none. Here we are, hoping to figure out a new normal that will limit—for we know we can, unfortunately, never fully stop—the collateral damage and fallout of the wars that rage in many a young man's heart.

You gave us pain and sorrow and heaps of horror even Nostradamus failed to predict. It does seem, though, that you believed predictions reportedly from another source, from the Mayans. Erroneous as those predictions of our end, of you being the last to rule the calendar turned out to be, like a bad screenwriter, you threw in every last shocker you could imagine, made our world seem stranger than fiction simply to get our attention.

Shame on you for such sloppy work, 2012. Yet I must admit that you did get our attention. And at least we learned much from your shark jumping.

At least we learned we can survive, sometimes even thrive, by spending less, accumulating less, depending on our creativity and one another more.

At least we learned negativity and hatefulness—and billions of dollars wasted on campaign ads folks muted or changed or completely ignored despite hearing—should go down in history, to (hopefully) never return.

At least we learned to share our hearts, hugs, material matters with those who have lost all in natural disasters. And to share our hearts, hugs, tears with those for whom material matters matter not one whit when it's loved ones lost, tragically taken.

And at least we've learned the importance, the necessity of discussing the matters affecting, encouraging, exacerbating, and ultimately allowing such tragedies.

I'm not satisfied with at leasts, though. I, along with everyone else subject to your rule, deserve much more than consolation. We deserve consideration, opportunity, positivity. And no more tears. We deserve hope for a brighter tomorrow as we give thanks for a peaceful and productive yesterday, a safe and secure today.

In light of that, I'm more than ready for you to pack your bags and get on your way, 2012. Don't let the door—or the disappointment in you—hit you on the way out, prevent you from an expedient exit. I need you gone for good so I can move on. My hopes and the hopes of many are now pinned on 2013.

So go on, 2012, skedaddle. And please don't even consider sharing knucks or high fives or any other sort of celebratory connecting to 2013 as you pass the bright and shiny New Year on your way out. I'd prefer you not taint with your toxic touch the promise of good things to come.

Farewell, 2012. Thank you in advance for graciously making way for 2013—my new favorite year.

Cheers...and good riddance!

graphic: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What do you hope to see in 2013 that didn't happen in 2012?

Holiday travel with kids: 5 tricks for an easier time

I leave this afternoon for an early holiday visit with my grandsons. I've got my grandma bag packed with lots of festive fun, and I shipped my Christmas gifts via UPS yesterday to arrive at Bubby and Mac's house tomorrow. No sense lugging them in my luggage when I could ship them for basically the same price—and be able to wrap them beforehand, with no complaints (or tearing open) by TSA.

I'm excited and all set to go. The only thing that will be missing from the trip is PawDad. This will be a solo trip for me to see our grandsons as the primary reason for heading to the desert is to cover childcare while Megan and Preston cover their seasonal obligations and celebrate their birthdays (Preston's was yesterday, Megan's is Friday).

Mac and Gramma 2011It's pretty easy for a grandma to get up and go for a holiday visit to the grandsons. It's not so easy to do the celebrating the other way around, with the grandsons and family traveling to Grandma's. Megan and Preston know that for a fact, as that's what they did last year—traveled over the river and through the woods to Gramma and PawDad's house.

I naturally had no trouble at all welcoming my grandsons and their parents to my home Christmas Day last year. For Megan and Preston, though, the trip was rough, and they've sworn to not travel again at Christmas—at least not while the boys are young and restless.

Bubby at Gramma's 2011I would love nothing more than to have my entire family together for Christmas celebrations, but I get it: Traveling with young kids is hell challenging.

That said, there are some tricks for making an easier time of it. Claire Haas, mom of two and Vice President of Education for Kiddie Academy, offers the following tips for handling holiday travel with kids. Share her ideas with the moms and dads heading your way with your precious grandkids in tow, ripe and ready for seasonal spoiling by Grandma and Grandpa:

•• Consider traveling at off-peak hours. Start the trip at 9 p.m. instead of 9 a.m. Doing so will avoid traffic, and the kids may just sleep for part of the trip. Increase the chances for sleep by an extended playground trip to burn off energy before buckling them in the car seats.

Courtesy Kiddie Academy• •A dollar store cookie sheet with magnets works great as a lap desk for the car or on a plane. The raised edge can help prevent crayons and cars from landing on the floor.

• •If facing a long car ride with the kids, pack each a "travel activity bag" with new games and activities to keep them busy. Keep the bag in the front seat and dole out a new item each hour. For example, a printed map for playing the license plate game or bubbles to blow out the car window.

• •Consider relaxing any restrictions on daily screen time. Video games, iPads and laptops can be true lifesavers when dealing with kids facing hours in close proximity to their siblings.

•• You have two choices on bedtime disruptions during holiday travel—stick to the routine while away from home, or just accept that rules are out the window and make the best of it. For some children, staying up past bedtime during the holidays is a special treat they'll remember fondly. Do what will work best for your family, and shrug off raised eyebrows from a great aunt or other relative because kids are allowed to stay up late or required to stay on schedule.

Today's question:

Would you rather travel to visit family at the holidays or host the family at your place?

From Huff/Post50: Who puts baby in a corner? Not this grandma

This post, sans the photos, was originally published on Huff/Post50, my first post as an official Huffington Post blogger.

Different grandmas, different styles

My favorite grandma never spanked me. She also never yelled at me, reprimanded me, restricted me.

My not-so-favorite grandma? Well, she never spanked me, either. She did, though, once make me drink grape juice I didn’t want. I immediately vomited up the purple stuff; Grandma immediately yelled at me for doing so. From that moment on, my “Favorite Grandma” title went to my other grandma—and my “Least Favorite Juice” designation went to grape.

When it came to being disciplined by my grandmothers, things could have been far worse. Back in the day—yes, that day—it was common for grandparents, heck, even neighbors and strangers, not to spare the rod when they deemed necessary, even when it came to children not their own.

I got lucky. Not in that I was a child above reproach and reprimand, but that my grandmothers pretty much left such things to my parents. Except when it came to drinking one’s juice.

Now that I’m a grandma, I consider those grandparenting styles, the disciplinary actions of my grandmothers, as well as the way the grandparents to my own children—my parents, my in-laws—conducted themselves with their grandkids.

The (step) patriarch of my husband’s family regularly swatted upside the heads those grandkids who committed minor infractions. I often wondered as a new member of my husband’s family if his step-dad’s popping kids for this and that was how he became known as “Pop” to the family.

My own mother, grandma to my three daughters, didn’t pop grandkids upside the head, but she often spanked on the rears the children of my younger sisters, regularly made them sit in the corner for misbehaving.

My sister-in-law and my sisters were okay with Pop and Grandma coming down hard on their kids. Both grandparents played a prominent role in helping the single moms raise the kiddos, so that may be why they were given more authority. It worked for their families. To each his own.

I, though, wasn’t okay with such disciplining of my own.

Not that my children were perfect by any means, or that they didn’t deserve to be disciplined upon breaking bad. But if the discipline necessary went beyond a stern look or word, perhaps a slight swat upon a diapered bottom for safety’s sake, we had an unspoken “hands off” policy. Nobody puts my babies in a corner—except for their dad and me.

Yet my husband and I didn’t put our kids in the corner. Nor did we pop them on the head now and then. We did, though, hand out some fairly strict disciplinary action when our daughters needed it. We sent them to their rooms, and we took away privileges. On occasion, we even spanked them.

When it comes to my grandsons, though—ages four-and-a-half and one-and-a-half— spanking, shaming, popping upside one’s head just isn’t my style. I know some grandmas do it, but I won’t. I simply cannot imagine inflicting the slightest bit of pain upon my grandsons.

That doesn’t mean I’ve not inflicted emotional pain, though. Unintentionally, I assure you, just as my not-so-favorite grandma did with the grape juice.

Case in point: As a long-distance grandma, I pack a pretty hefty lot of luggage when I visit my grandsons. In that luggage is always what we call my “Grandma Bag,” filled with crafts, books, and fun to fill the time with the boys. The rule is that my grandsons must wait until I share treasures from my bag, not go into it themselves.

Also in my luggage—as surely applies to many a grandparent—is medication. Pills and more that should never, ever be touched by little ones and one of the reasons my grandsons are not allowed in “Gramma’s room” unless I’m with them.

Most can likely guess what happened: I entered my room one morning to find my oldest grandson sitting on the floor, happily going through the goodies in my Grandma Bag, the bag that had been in my suitcase, right beside those other things he was to never, ever, touch. He peered up at me with a grin over all the fun Gramma had in store—then immediately realized the mistake he’d made. He burst into tears, I calmly reminded him that he’s to never, ever touch Gramma’s things without first asking.

After lots of tears from him and lots of lecturing from me, my grandson apologized for the bad choice he’d made. I, of course, forgave him. The question is, did he forgive me? I know firsthand that grudges toward grandmas can run deep, and I didn’t want my grandson to forever hold against me the Grandma Bag incident.

Regardless of whether my grandson forever revokes from me the “Favorite Grandma” designation or not, I hope he will eventually realize my response could have been far different, could have included a spanking.

With the holidays upon us, what other grandmas might do may be tested. Families will gather, kids will act up. Some grandparents will spank or send kids into corners, some parents will bristle. Or not. To each his own.

I just know that when it comes to my own, nobody puts my grandbabies in a corner—except, maybe, their own mom and dad.

Today's question:

What is your experience with grandparents disciplining your children or you disciplining your own grandchildren?

Water woes

On Saturday, I got an infinitely small taste of what some of those affected by Hurricane Sandy have gone through and, in some cases, are still going through.

The day started as most any other Saturday, meaning I had a huge to-do list, especially considering the many gifts I'm making for Christmas. I did a little here, a little there, and by about 10:30 that morning, I went out to the garage to do some painting projects I had lined up for the day. I figured I'd get the painting done then clean the cats' litter boxes before taking my shower for the day.

So I painted away. Around noon, just as I headed into the house  to wash off the black and brown paint covering my hands (and the lubricant I'd sprayed all over them to help with removing the paint from my hands), Jim met me halfway to say water was flowing like a river in the street in front of our house—and there was absolutely no water on tap inside the house.

Apparently a water main had burst. Jim and I—both of us unshowered—joined the neighbors in the street to hem and haw about the wasted water that could have gone to good use on our drought-stricken trees. Water that would have done a world of good for my paint-and-lubricant-covered hands, too.

As the wait for utility crews to arrive and repair the broken main was long and uneventful, I headed back inside to do what I could to clean my hands and eliminate what I could from my to-do list. Soon Jim followed and we set to work putting up the majority of our Christmas decorations.

Time ticked on and by dinner time, still no water. With no way to make dinner without water, Jim ventured out to pick up Taco Bell. We used wet wipes to wash our hands before touching our tacos, but at least the repair crews had arrived and were hard at work. Even as daylight was gone, they toiled away.

Time continued ticking on...and on...and on.

And the utility crews continued working...and working...and working.

By 9 p.m., the big guns had arrived. Big trucks with big equipment, including big lights. They dug big holes and carried big pipes.

All the while, I sat on my big butt in front of my big window with my big camera in hand, documenting their work late into Saturday night.

 

Soon after midnight, the clean-up crews were scooping up the last of the dirt. The water was on. Hallelujah!

By 1 a.m. Sunday, everyone was gone.

Until Sunday afternoon, that is, when a few of the neighbors dropped by to check out the street repairs.

I think they were impressed. I know I certainly was. Not only with the repair crew, but even more so with the folks affected by Hurricane Sandy now that I'd had an infinitesimal smidgen of a sampling of what they endured for many, many more hours than I did.

Today's question:

When did you last endure a utility service outage (water, gas, or electric)?