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?

The 10 commandments for grandmothers

ONE

Thou shall not put one grandchild above any other grandchild, in favor, gifts, deeds, or attention.

TWO

Thou shall not make for yourself a collection of images taken from the Facebook account, online photo-sharing service, or—heaven forbid—a physical photo album belonging to the parents of the grandchild without asking first.

THREE

Thou shall not take the name of the grandchild’s parents in vain for the manner in which they’re feeding, disciplining, spoiling, raising your grandchild(ren). At least not in front of the children.

FOUR

Remember the Sabbath Day or whatever day may immediately follow a visit with the grandkids. Use it wisely to rest up, for you will surely need to recover from the energy depletion resulting from the constant attention, crafting, joking, cooking, and uncommon physical activity required—and fully enjoyed—while in the presence of a grandson or granddaughter.

FIVE

Honor the father and mother of your grandchildren for in most cases, they really are trying their hardest to do right by the children.

SIX

Thou shall not murder the dietary and bedtime guidelines set forth by the grandchild’s parents. At least not often. And only when chocolate or a request for just one more bedtime story is involved.

SEVEN

Thou shall not commit adult-like expressions that demean the grandchild, no matter how challenging the child may be. Especially at an overdue bedtime—for the child or the grandma. Or during shopping excursions. Or when the little one won’t eat a special something you cooked up just for him or her, snarling and refusing to take even one single nibble because it’s too brown or too red or touching the food next to it.

EIGHT

Thou shall not steal all the time with the grandchild—especially a newborn—from other family members simply because you want to continue loving, touching and squeezing the little one, for others do, too. Volunteer, instead, to change the most stinkily soiled of diapers—something others refuse to do—then take your time doing it. 

NINE

Thou shall not bear false witness against the dog to keep a grandchild from getting in trouble for attempting to dig to China in the front yard or eating the last of the cookies from Mom’s cookie jar.

TEN

Thou shall not covet the time the other grandma has with your grandchildren, even if it’s far more than the time you are allotted. For regarding the moments grandmas and grandchildren share, the quality of the time not the quantity will be most memorably held in the hearts of the grandchildren—and the grandmother.

Today's question:

Which commandment are you most guilty of breaking? (Of the commandments above!)

Grandparenting as a second chance: 15 things I'd do this time around

Some grandmas and grandpas consider being a grandparent their second chance at parenting, their opportunity to do things right, do things forgotten.

Not me. I don't see my time as Gramma being a do-over for my time as Mom. I've already had the headache, hassle, heartache of being a parent. I'm happy now to enjoy my time with my grandchildren without feeling the need to make good on all the things I neglected, all the ways I screwed up with my children. For one thing, there's no way to make up for what was—with those kids or with the kids of those kids.

If it were, though, if being a grandparent really did provide an opportunity for do-overs, here are a few things I'd do better the second time around:

• Go on more family bike rides.

• Complete a doll house for the girls. Boys, too, if they wanted one.

• Be more adamant about flossing.

• Allow them to order dessert now and then when dining out. Or an appetizer, instead of saying the budget's too tight for either.

• Teach them to sew, regardless of their gender.

• Not allow them to quit musical instruction, be it band, choir, guitar lessons.

• Not allow them to quit sports mid-season, either.

• On the other hand, I'd be more adamant about them quitting bad relationships sooner.

• Take them camping as teens, even if they didn't want to go. Once they got out in the boonies, they'd surely appreciate the s'mores, stories, and sky of endless stars regardless of their protests from home.

• Go on more picnics. And Sunday drives, with no particular destination, agenda, goal.

• Buy them each a camera at a younger age. (A far easier consideration now that the cost of developing photos is no longer a factor.)

• Allow more slumber parties. Though not co-ed, as seems currently in fashion.

• Sing more.

• Hug more.

• Remember more.

Today's question:

What would you do differently if given parenting do-overs?

It's official: I'm a cool grandparent

As a teen, I pored over personality quizzes that might better tell me who I was and what I wanted—those ever-so-important things that I simply could not figure out for myself. If I circled the right number of As or Bs or ALL OF THE ABOVEs, the super-scientific methodology would make me feel good about myself while directing me to the places in need of improvement. Or so I hoped.

As a young wife and mother, I continued to want—no, need—validation through personality and relationship quizzes offered in magazines ranging from Redbook to Parents. In between diapering, bathing, feeding and surviving, I took quizzes any time I came across them. I even bought books—one a hardcover, if you can believe it!—of quizzes to help me figure out me, myself, and I.

COOL GRANDMAS LET GRANDSONS LICK THE BOWLApparently I've not outgrown the need for quiz-based validation, not even as a grandma. For when I saw that friend and fellow grandma Susan posted on her Grandparents.About.com website a What's Your Grandparenting Style quiz, I couldn't click my way there quickly enough.

I'm now older and a wee bit wiser than the quiz-taking adolescent or young mother I once was. So I kept my enthusiasm in check, resolved to remain blasé about what I might find and what the quiz may reveal. I skeptically assumed the quiz would be three or four questions followed by a designation along the lines of "You are the best kind of grandma ever, the kind who loves your grandbaby sweetie bugs to death and they love you totally and completely in return."Such a generic result would be not only a cop-out but a disappointment.

I was happy to see—and should have known to begin with—that Susan was better than that. She offered up a fairly in-depth questionaire. Sure, it wasn't a Myers-Brigg type psychological test by any stretch of the imagination. Questions, though, were many and ran the gamut from one's gifting style to what kind of grandma attire she might wear on to how disciplinary action may be taken on a trash-can-toppling grandson.

COOL GRANDMAS MAKE UP TRAMPOLINE GAMESI thoughtfully considered each question, then went with my gut in answering, just as any long-time personality quiz-taker has learned provides the most accurate results. (No more adolescent manipulation of the outcome by guessing which answers provide desired results rather than the reality.) Once I made it through the fourteen questions, each with six possible answers, I braced myself for the outcome, hoping for confirmation that I'm doing the right thing as a grandma while also providing a few unexpected revelations on where I rock and where I need to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Now, I don't want to incite the crowd, create jealousy where none should be, so I'm a tad reluctant to share my results. In my quest to be a transparent blogger, though, I must honestly and completely reveal the outcome. On one hand, it's what I expected. On the other hand...well... Oh, hell, I cannot lie. It's what I expected. Sort of. After decades of self-test taking, how could I not know how this one might turn out.

Still, it made me smile. For this, my friends, is the official word on my grandparenting style:

What's Your Grandparenting Style?

You're a Cool Grandparent!

You are not the stereotypical grandparent. For one thing, you're totally at ease with technology. You're likely to be young in years, but you are definitely young at heart. You love movies, music, video games and other diversions that you can share with your grandchildren once they get old enough. You're not really into baking, knitting or gardening, and you're not a great fan of family history. You're more interested in living in the here and now, and your grandchildren will appreciate that.

Did they hit it on the head or what?

Sure, they missed on the baking, for I do indeed love to bake. And gardening, well, I'm trying and will get it one of these years, for sure. But I'll just figure gardening—and the need to become a more avid fan of my freaky family history—as the places needing improvement I hoped would be pointed out to me.

Despite those minor misses, confirmation and validation came in spades. Or at least came in the first three sentences of my results. For proof, check out my About page here on my blog. A quick scan of it and you'll see that the Granparent.About.com quiz is no slouch. It turned out to be fairly accurate. At least in my case.

What about in yours? Take the quiz for yourself and see. I hope you'll come back here afterward and report your grandparenting style. I promise not to be jealous.

For I'm cool like that. And I have the quiz results to prove it.

Today's question:

When did you last take a quiz in a magazine or online?

Scoring points and breakfast in bed

One of the things I'm really enjoying about Bubby as he gets older is the conversations we have. His conversational skills improve by leaps and bounds in between each and every visit I have with him. I love the unique expressions he uses, as well as those that make it clear he's mimicking Mommy or Daddy without really knowing what the phrases mean.

One example of the latter was when Bubby mentioned that he couldn't eat a particular food—I can't recall what food or even what the conversation involved—and told me that it wasn't a good food choice because it had "thirty-fifty-hundred points" in it. Seems Mommy's attention to points associated with food, per the Weight Watchers plan she's kept an eye on since having Mac, has left quite the impression on Bubby.

Not that our conversations always featured food, but there was another time Bubby impressed me with his conversational skills...and his memory. At breakfast one morning, Bubby took a bite of his peanut-butter toast which he'd topped with a piece of the Count Chocula cereal Gramma had bought him as a treat.

"Mmm...it tastes just like my birthday cereal," he said.

Seems one of the birthday rituals for Bubby is that he gets to choose his breakfast cereal. It's a treat because Bubby doesn't usually get to eat the sugary cereals (like the Count Chocula Gramma bought him), and he had chosen Reese's cereal for his birthday breakfast in June.

"Mommy and Daddy brought it to me in my room," he continued with the story of his birthday breakfast.

"You had breakfast in bed on your birthday?" I asked him.

"Yeah! I got to eat in my room!" he enthusiastically shared, the memory of the happy meal glimmering in his eyes.

I asked him if Mommy and Daddy stayed or if he ate alone in his room. "No! Roxy [his dog] stayed with me," he said, "but I didn't give her any food."

"That's pretty awesome," I told him.

But I didn't really think so. At least not for me. I don't like breakfast in bed. While it's supposed to be a relaxing treat—and my daughter obviously thinks so, as she treated her son to it for his birthday and he thoroughly enjoyed it—I disagree.

I happily accept meals prepared for me any time of the day, any day of the year. But I don't want to eat them in bed. Alone. For one thing, it's hard to eat in bed—even with a nifty tray Jim purchased for that one occasion. Secondly, it's lonely when it's only the one being honored nibbling on her toast and worrying about spilling her coffee in the covers, all alone, with no one to talk to (and not even room to spread out the morning paper to read while eating).

Nope...breakfast in bed is no treat for me.

But it was for Bubby. And hearing about his awesome Reese's cereal in bed that he didn't share with anyone, not even Roxy, made me smile.

As does most everything Bubby says.

Well, except for all those comments he recently made about my age. The art of polite conversation is a skill Bubby has yet to master.

I'm assuming mastering polite conversation won't be difficult for Bubby, though, as he easily picked up the complex concept of avoiding foods with a high number of points. Especially those with thirty-fifty-hundred points.

Today's question:

How do you feel about being served breakfast in bed?

5 things I've learned this week

While visiting my grandsons this past week, I've learned a thing or two. Or five.

1. The desert climate isn't unbearable all the time. In fact, I've rather enjoyed the weather this past week, as the highs were in the low 80s or below. I was out walking in the sunshine with my grandsons while everyone back home—including Mickey and Lyla, my dogs and usual walking companions—braved freezing temps and snow flurries.

2. I'm an old lady. At least in the eyes of my oldest grandson. I first thought Bubby's comments on my age were random silliness. As they added up, though, there was no denying he considers me an old woman. Examples:

• As I mentioned a few days ago on Facebook, regarding a conversation about Halloween costumes — Bubby: What are you gonna be for Halloween, Gramma? Gramma (not planning on dressing up and having to think quickly of SOMEthing): I'm gonna be an old lady. Bubby: So like you already are?
• When he and I headed to the grocery store in Megan's car last night, he let me know as we backed out of the garage, "This is a fast car, Gramma—even when old ladies are driving."
• During a discussion of Reese's candy bars, he decided I pronounce it funny. "That's okay," he consoled me. "That's how old women say it."

3. Those grocery carts with an attached play car at the front are a pain to drive. Bubby wanted to ride in the car as we shopped. When I first said no, he answered with, "I understand." Which naturally made me give in. It was my first time driving one, as my daughters never rode in those. In fact, I don't think those were around when my girls were little. They're a true pain in the <cuss> to steer because they're so long. Yes, I had a few fender-benders. But Bubby enjoyed the bumper car action without complaint. I'm not positive I can say the same about the other shoppers.

4. I'm no longer a light sleeper. I was once a light sleeper, awaking at the slightest sound as I kept an ear out for my daughters—for safety's sake when they were little, to bust them on being out past curfew when older. Not anymore. Mac has had trouble sleeping of late, screaming off and on throughout the night in the room right next to where I'm sleeping, yet I learned of his restless times only when Megan or Preston mentioned it each morning.

5. Even old ladies (see No. 2 above) get nervous about meeting new friends. I'm meeting my bloggy friend Connie from Family Home and Life for the first time in real life this morning. That said, I'm also looking forward to it as I learned a long time ago—not this week—that old ladies still like making and meeting new friends, too, despite the nerves.

Today's question:

What have you learned this week?

Photo replay: Booth time

Getting everyone to look where they're supposed—when they're supposed to—while in a photo booth is so not as easy as you'd think.

But it's fun. And funny.

Today's question:

When did you last squish into a photo booth and with whom?