All boy

As a mother, I had only daughters—no sons. Because of that, as a grandmother with two grandsons—no granddaughters—I relish each and every one of the all-boy moments I'm privy to. Moments such as the following, from my recent desert visit.

Challenging Gramma to go ahead and just try making him take the car out of his mouth:

And blowing raspberries each time she did...til Gramma put an end to that, too:

Figuring out one's favorite stance for rockin':

Each morning, right after breakfast, the boys immediately set to work at playing—in a surprisingly deliberate and focused fashion, showing serious commitment to the task at hand in a way I don't recall my daughters doing:

Though they did often take a break from their morning "work" to jump in their jammies:

 

Not exactly how my girls used to help Mom make cookies:

What could be more fun than popping bubble wrap?

Why, this...

...and this, of course.

Such fun, these boys who are indeed all boy—and Gramma's all-time favorite mini-males.

Today's question:

What recent all-boy antics have left you chuckling—or scratching your head?

The Saturday Post: Call Me Maybe - Grandparents Day edition

Seems there's a lip-synching Call Me Maybe video by and for anyone and everyone.

This one by and for grandparents and Grandparents Day ranks as one of my favorites.

Best wishes for a happy Labor Day weekend!

The grandma in a box

This post was named People's Choice in the humor category in the 2013 BlogHer Voices of the Year.

A STORY:

Once upon a time there was a woman.

Who had a husband.

And three daughters.

Plus one house, two cats, two dogs, and an addiction to collecting books and pictures of people she loved.

And she had a writing job that had nothing—yet everything—to do with all of the above that she loved.

She liked rock music, independent films, and playing games with her friends—which was usually paired with a wee bit of drinking, too, whiskey or beer but never, ever umbrella drinks of any sort.

The woman also liked learning new things, especially when it came to computers, cameras, cooking and cantatas.

(She also really liked alliteration, so cantatas worked far better in that sentence than piano.)

The woman loved her mom, her dad, her brothers and sisters. She loved Jesus and America, too—as well as stories and songs that turned her heart inside out.

The woman liked the things most women do. No matter what their age.

Eventually the woman’s daughters grew up and flew away. One got married and had two sons.

Which made the woman a grandma. Yet another thing she loved.

So the woman added to her writing job, writing about those grandsons. Writing about them online—along with lots of other things she'd write about—on a blog.

Which was confusing to some.

It wasn't the writing on the blog that confused some, it was the being a grandma. Grandmas are old and know nothing about being online. Or anything interesting at all, for that matter. Grandmas rock in rocking chairs, they hug and kiss their grandkids, they pull up their gray hair into buns. Maybe they crochet. But that's pretty much it.

At least that's what it seemed some non-grandma bloggers thought of grandma bloggers. They’re only grandmas. They’re old. They’re boring. And they’re invisible if there's the G-word in their name, the G-word in their game.

Once a grandma,only a grandma, they thought.

Some unenlightened brands, bloggy networks, and PR folks seemed to think the same thing, too.

If they even thought of grandmas at all.

Other grandmas understood. Other grandma bloggers really understood—even those who didn’t write specifically about their grandchildren, about being a grandma.

The other grandmas understood because all of the grandmas, online and off, were put in the very same box. Were trying to get out of the same box. Together were saying, HEY, you meanies who squished us up into this uncomfortable GRANDMA box: We want out! We love our grandkids way beyond words, but they’re not all we love. Can’t you see we are so much more than grandmas? Can’t you see we are all that we were before? Can't you see that we are now all that AND a bag of potato chips, er, grandmas!

But the non-grandmas didn’t see any of that. They didn't see the woman and her fellow grandmas pounding on the box. All they saw was the word GRANDMA. And the box.

If they saw anything at all.

Every once in a while, someone did see something at all. Mostly it was just the word GRANDMA, though, and they thought the boxed-up grandmas would be happy as clams to talk about canes and assisted living centers and denture cream and gadgets that help them when they’ve fallen and can’t get up.

Those non-grandmas didn’t realize grandmas can and do get up. On their own. And they get down, too. That they're still vibrant and relevant. That they still love music. Still have jobs that have nothing to do with being a grandma, yet love the job of being a grandma, too. They still have spouses and daughters and sons and parents and brothers and sisters and animals and friends and interests.

And that they do all the very same things they did before they became grandmas.

They even—gasp!—still have S-E-X.

And they still talk about and write about things that matter, with people and for people who matter.

So that woman who was now a grandma but still had a husband and three daughters and still really loved all sorts of things non-grandmas think grandmas shouldn't or couldn't like decided to write about being stuck in the GRANDMA box.

In hopes others might see her and her grandma friends in there and let them out.

Or…perhaps they might do nothing at all.

But at least that grandma who loves, loves, loves being a grandma yet is so much more than a grandma would have her say.

Then she ended her plea for release from the GRANDMA box with an oh-so cute photo of her grandsons. Simply because she could.

And to further confuse those non-grandmas who Just. Don't. Get. It. 

THE END

Today's question:

Anyone second that emotion?

Brusha, brusha, brusha

I receive hundreds of press releases in my Grandma's Briefs mailbox each week. I get lots of info on lots of things: good things, scary things, important things, fun things, nifty-gadgety things. And more often than you might think, bizarro things that make me wonder why in the world the PR folks thought I'd appreciate such information.

One of the recent scary-but-important things I received was a press release relaying the information that, according to top U.S. dental associations, the United States is experiencing a resurgence in childhood tooth decay. An especially interesting stat was that dental disease is now the top chronic health problem for children, per the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

BUBBY'S FIRST DENTIST VISITThe news made me thankful Bubby recently had his first dental visit, where he, his pearly whites, and his teeth-brushing techniques were given an A for effort.

Part of the reason dental disease is such a problem nowadays, according to the information, lies in the fact many parents don’t think baby teeth are important, as they’ll be replaced by a child’s permanent teeth. Also, some pediatricians—my grandsons’ included—typically recommend a child first visit the dentist at three years of age. Dental associations, though, have recently updated their recommendation for dentist visits, saying it should happen once the very first tooth erupts.

Which means Bubby, at four years old and with a mouthful of teeth, was way late in getting to the dentist. And that even Mac, at 13 months but well on his way to a full mouth, needs to get in the dentist's chair pronto.

Dental care is a parent's duty, not a grandparent's. In light of the stats and the updated info, though, here are a few ways grandparents can help promote good brushing habits and cavity prevention in their grandchildren:

• Encourage parents (without overstepping your boundaries, of course) to take the kiddos to the dentist as soon as that first tooth is celebrated.

• Be sure grandchildren brush morning and night when staying at your house. Have fun (and spare) toothbrushes on hand, as well as flavored toothpastes that appeal to the little ones. Perhaps make a game of it and brush together. Also, be sure to supervise the older ones and do the actual brushing for little ones.

• When seeking small gift ideas, consider giving new toothbrushes and toothpastes featuring a child’s favorite characters. Or maybe a battery powered one, if a grandchild doesn’t have one at home.

• Limit candy, soda, and sweet treats that aren’t good for teeth.

• Same goes for fast food and processed foods, which are typically high in sugar.

• Never share eating utensils with children as that can transfer cavity-producing bacteria from your mouth to theirs.

• Keep on the lookout for tooth decay and halitosis (bad breath). If noticed, mention it—again, tactfully—to Mom or Dad.

• Read books together that focus on good dental habits. Consider ABC Dentist: Healthy Teeth from A to Z by Harriet Ziefert as well as the numerous books in which favorite characters—Dora the Explorer, Berenstain Bears, Elmo, Spongebob—visit the dentist.

Unless you’re in the dental field, you probably don’t spend a lot of time focusing on the dental care of your grandchildren. Grandparents are in a perfect position to help promote good brushing habits and cavity prevention, though, so it can't hurt and will surely help.

Bubby and Mac best prepare to get a fair share of toothbrushes from Gramma going forward. Though I have a feeling gifts of toothbrushes will be accepted by my grandsons in a manner similar to that of Bubby's robot dishes.

If nothing else, they'll have healthy teeth to grit while expressing their (forced) appreciation for Gramma's gifts.

Today’s question:

What's the going rate per tooth from the Tooth Fairy in your family, in the past or nowadays?

Photo replay: Looking for fun

Mac and Bubby at Gramma's — June 2012

Today's question:

What was your favorite toy as a child?

Right versus real

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?