The Saturday Post: Tap Pups wannabe edition

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In my next life, I want to be a tap dancer.

Actually, forget the next life—I want to learn to tap dance in the second half of this life! And I want to be part of something just like this in order to do that:

Not gonna happen though, as Tap Pups classes take place in a land far, far away. Meaning, Pennsylvania. But, that high-energy, toe-tapping woman does sell videos. So I'm seriously considering buying one...and maybe the portable tap floor, too. (Or I may just ask for both—and tap shoes!—for my next birthday. Take note, Jim...daughters...grandsons.)

Today's question:

Do you tap dance? And whether you do or not, what kind of dancing do you enjoy most?

Photo replay: Keep on truckin'

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Remember that big orange dump truck Bubby reviewed nearly two years ago? The one he loved to drive really fast around the house?

Well look who gets a turn at it now:

I hope your Sunday's as much fun as a big orange dump truck!

(In the interest of full disclosure—and because Megan will call me out on it in the most embarrassing of manners if I don't admit it first—YES, Baby Mac's shirt is on backwards. And YES, I was babysitting that day and am the one who dressed him. And YES, I thought it was weird the word NIKE would be emblazoned on the back of a baby's shirt, but it seemed logical the buttons would go in the front. That logic got this grandma nowhere but with hundreds of photos of her grandson looking rather silly with his NIKE shirt on backwards. Go ahead...you guys have all the fun you want with that one.)

It's show-and-tell time: Share a little love

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I'm going to try something different today. It requires audience participation, so I hope YOU will participate.

It's Monday. No one feels like working. The weekend is hanging on. Am I right? I thought so. So let's stretch out the weekend just a wee bit more by sharing in the comments below one little thing we each loved about our weekend.

Maybe it's an article or blog post you read—or wrote—that you especially loved. Well, give us all the link so we can love it, too. And be sure to include WHY you love it so we are more determined to click to it. (And those who click on it, especially if it's a blog post, be kind and comment to show you were there.)

Or maybe you watched a movie, read a book, heard a song that you loved. Tell us about it...and feel free to leave a link to the trailer or book site or video. Or just write why it mattered at the particular moment you experienced it.

Maybe over the weekend you had an incredible cup of coffee, ate the best donut, took the coolest photo you've ever taken, enjoyed giving or getting an early Valentine, were on the receiving end of some sweet words from a grandchild or family member—or stranger.

Maybe you simply enjoyed a few peaceful moments to yourself.

Whatever it may be, show it, tell us about it. Just one little love from your weekend. That's what I want to hear. That's what we all want to hear, I venture to say, to keep us from having to consider the week and the work ahead.

I will go first.

As I'm still struggling to get over a super cold bug that attacked once I returned home from the desert, there weren't any huge things I loved about this past weekend. There were little ones, though. One little thing I loved was actually a couple little things rolled into one: I love my new camera. I love that it snowed. I love that because I didn't feel like going outside (thanks to that bug I don't love at all), I could sit at the table in my warm dining room and take photos of the snow and practice a few of my new camera's features.

Here are a couple shots taken during that moment I loved—practicing blurring and focusing on what was right out my door: 

Sometimes, no, A LOT of the time, it's the little things that matter. There's mine, now show me your one little thing you loved. (Be sure to visit shared links, too, as well as come back to see what others have shared after you.)

Let show-and-tell time begin!

Today's question:

What's one little love from your weekend?

Can't help but grin

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Baby Mac didn't feel well during most of my recent visit, thanks to teething, a cold, and what turned out to be an ear infection.

That didn't stop my youngest grandson from giggling and grinning more often than not, though, even when feeling his very worst.

Yeah, I still have some work to do in mastering that new camera of mine. But you get the picture...for the most (precious) part.

Today's question:

When and why did you most recently laugh out loud (for real; no "LOL" funny business)?

Savor the moments

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Jim and I had three daughters in a short period of time. There are 16 months between the oldest and the middle daughters, 19 months between the middle and the youngest. Which means, obviously, our daughters are very close in age. In fact, for one month out of each year—roughly mid July to mid August—the girls' ages are consecutive.

Which also means, obviously, I was one very busy mama while raising them. I felt hurried and harried much of the time, and I rarely stopped to savor the sweetest and simplest of moments with my three girls, from their toddler to their teen years.

I'm trying to not make the same mistake as a grandma.

Things are pretty clear cut with Baby Mac because as an eight-month-old, what he wants, he pretty much needs...and gets. With three-and-a-half-year-old Bubby, though, it's different. His needs are met; his wants are up for negotiation. That's where my tack as a grandmother differs from the tack I took as a mother. When Bubby requests my participation, my attention, I do my best to stop the busy work and savor the moment. As long as his requests are reasonable, that is. And most reasonable he proved to be during my recent visit to the desert.

For example, "Gramma, can you play train with me?" was a reasonable request. So, despite not being one for typically enjoying sitting on the floor—and Baby Mac needing some attention, too—I busied Mac with some blocks, plopped down next to Bubby, and followed his lead of "You be Henry, Gramma, and I'll be Thomas." Moment savored.

Another instance: Bubby's bedtime routine typically features one bedtime story read. One night we finished the chosen book, and I stood from his bed to tuck him in, kiss him goodnight, and head out the door. "Can we please read this one, too?" Bubby pleaded, holding up a book. "It's soooo funny!" So I did, all the while savoring his snickers at "There Was A Cold Lady Who Swallowed Some Snow," savoring his sense of humor, savoring the moment.

When Bubby asked, "Gramma, can we build a fort?" I didn't hem and haw about the mess it would make. Instead, Bubby and I together built the fort to beat all forts, with tunnels and secret passages and cardboard boxes blocking out the light. Moment savored...and video captured of Bubby and Baby Mac savoring the fort again and again and again, with giggles galore as they chased one another through tunnels and more.

At snack time, Bubby wanted his snack in the fort. At naptime, he wanted the bedtime story read—to both him and Baby Mac—in the fort. Both requests filled. Easily. Both moments savored. Surely.

At the park, Bubby asked if I'd climb up the play structure and "play pirate" with him. Baby Mac slept in his stroller, within viewing distance, of course, as Bubby and I climbed and slid and shouted "Look out, Captain! They're after us!" again and again. Moment savored.

Most mornings of my visit, Bubby woke me with a gentle nudge on my knee—except for the first morning when he slammed open my bedroom door and shouted, "GRAMMA! It's morning time!" (My freakout at his announcement led to knee nudges going forward, I'm sure.) One day when I woke before him, Bubby watched me from the open bathroom door and said, "Gramma, after you're done brushing your teeth, will you start your day with me?" Request easily filled as that was my intent anyway. The sweet moment of his request, though, especially savored.

Requests of "Will you jump with me, Gramma?" brought leaps and bounds of joy each and every time we giggled and wiggled and waggled about on the trampoline—which was pretty much each and every time Bubby asked me to do so. And my request to him one night to lie quietly on the trampoline and look at the stars together was enthusiastically met with a resounding "Yes!" That grandson of mine, he truly gives as good as he gets. Moments savored—by both of us.

One of Bubby's favorite cartoons is Olivia, which begins with the inflation of a pirate ship bouncy house. Once, a discussion of bouncy houses ensued after the program began, and Bubby gushed about the most awesome of parties he was scheduled to soon attend. "It's gonna be so cool! There's gonna be a bouncy house and pizza!" he raved. "Do you want to come, Gramma? Maybe you can ask PawDad if you can come!"

This was one of Bubby's few unreasonable requests. Not because I wouldn't be in town at the time of the party or because I'm sure the guest of honor wasn't expecting grandmas to join in. No, I thought it unreasonable—and, more so, surprising—that Bubby naturally assumed I had to ask PawDad's permission to go to the party. My I-am-woman-hear-me-roar sensibilities wanted me to explain to Bubby that I don't need PawDad's permission to go to the party, that I didn't need his permission to do anything. Women, I considered telling my grandson, don't need permission from a man to do anything—we can do anything we choose.

What I chose to do, though, was to not tell Bubby those things. There's plenty of time for him to learn such lessons—and woefully little time that a precious boy earnestly and enthusiastically extends to his grandma invitations to birthday parties with pizza and bouncy houses.

What I chose to do was savor that fleeting moment instead.

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

A moment I recently savored with my grandchildren or children was ___________.