Jekyll, Hyde and Bubby

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Bubby's mom, Megan, was an incredibly moody and sensitive child, the most senstive of my three daughters.

Based on our latest Skype visit with Bubby, seems that Megan's finally getting paid back for all she put her parents through.

From the heights of happiness to the depths of despair, I think Bubby covered it all in our 20-minute visit. All the while. Megan just shook her head, saying, "Yep, he's two."

He's not just two, Megan. He's just like you!

Today's question:

What question would you like to see asked of Grandma's Briefs readers?

Off to New Zealand ... again!

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One of the greatest things about writing Grandma's Briefs is the wonderful women I meet from all across the globe. I've been introduced to women in Malta, Canada, The United Kingdom.

Most surprising to me, though, is that I've met a handful of wonderful women either from or with strong ties to New Zealand. I've not only met them, I've grilled them.

First there was Grilled Grandma Sally, who lives in New Zealand. There there was Grilled Grandma Billie, whose granddaughter lives in New Zealand. And now there's this week's Grilled Grandma, Pauline, who hails from New Zealand, too!

(I think it's a sign I'm supposed to visit New Zealand. Maybe Jim's making secret travel plans for us. Maybe?)

The word that continually came to mind while reading Pauline's grilling is lovely. She's a lovely grandma, with lovely grandchildren, living in a lovely place, writing a lovely blog sharing all of that loveliness and more.

But there's much more to Pauline than loveliness. Here are three of the many tidbits you'll learn about the latest featured grandma from New Zealand by reading Grilled Grandma Pauline:

Three of Pauline's granddaughters are the same age -- and they're not triplets!

Her seven-year-old granddaughter has a humorous explanation for why she simply cannot be a monster.

The reason why Pauline no longer plays Simon Cowell to her grandchildren.

After reading Pauline's grilling, be sure to leave her a comment or two on your thoughts about her and her little ones. (I bet the word "lovely" surely comes to your mind when thinking of Pauline, too!)

Today's question:

What one word best describes you today?

Intersections

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Related Posts with ThumbnailsI have a friend who recently found out she's pregnant. Pam, whom many of you may know in real life -- or from her comments and reviews here on Grandma's Briefs -- received the good news a few weeks ago.

It was surprising news for Pam as she'd pretty much settled into life with the assumption she'd never have kids. It had taken her a long time to find a partner she'd deemed worthy of parenting with her, they'd gotten pregnant, they sadly lost the baby. They were told by specialists -- in their infinite wisdom -- that they'd likely never have children.

So Pam moved on to other pursuits, including studying to become a personal trainer (and being within just the exam of certification) and preparing the home she and her significant other share for putting it on the market so they could move to a place more fitting their lifestyle.

Now their lifestyle has been thrown into surprise makeover mode.

Though it means (and meant) incredible ups, downs, heartbreak and hope for Pam and her SO, such stories are fairly common.

What isn't so common, though, and what I -- along with my friend, the mommy-to-be -- find most intriguing about her story is that, get this, Pam will become a full-fledged mother at the very same age that I became a GRANDmother!

Yes, Pam, who is only a few years younger than I, will be struggling with diapers, doctors and disparate parenting philosophies at the very same time that I'm struggling to get quality time with my Bubby and hoping for the arrival of additional grandbabies sometime soon.

I'm not sure if that says more about me, more about Pam, or more about the current generation of parents ... and grandparents ... in general.

I became a grandmother at a relatively young age, but I'm far from the record of Youngest Grandma Ever. My oldest sister was nearly five years younger when she became a grandma, and I've featured a Grilled Grandma who had her first grandbaby at an age much younger than the one at which I first claimed the crown.

Does that mean strangers might mistake me for Bubby's mother when we're out and about together? Possibly. But I sure hope not. Megan deserves all the credit -- and the craziness -- that's part and parcel of being the one whom Bubby calls Mom. I'm proud to proclaim myself Bubby's grandmother, not his mother.

And with Pam firmly in the "older" mother category -- yet decades from Oldest Ever designation -- does that mean she might be considered little Nubbin's grandmother when she and the sweet one are out and about once Nubbin arrives? Possibly, but highly unlikely. Pam is in the best shape ever (did I mention she's nearly a personal trainer?) and looks, dresses and acts far younger than most women her age -- myself indubitably included. And the youthfulness looks fabulous on her. She'll most definitely proudly proclaim her status as Nubbin's mother, not grandmother.

What I think the situation really underscores is that the women of my generation are doing things far younger than in the past (including becoming grandma) as well as far older than in the past (including becoming mama). And every once in a while there's an intersection of the two.

I'm honored to have met Pam at that intersection.

In the several years I've know Pam, we've been similar in so many ways, each with minor deviances from what we share. We like basically the same movies -- with the exception of her penchant for zombie flicks while I prefer documentaries. We read many of the same books -- with the exception of her well-read list of classics compared to my enjoyment of non-fiction fare. We've worked together, been in book clubs together, gotten drunk together, worried about health scares and aging together, written together.

Now we'll blog together. Pam recently embarked on a mommy blogging venture, calling it 40-Something First Timer. I can't think of a more worthy blogging buddy.

Nor can I think of a more worthy buddy with whom to share the 40-something parenting experience, albeit from opposite ends of the spectrum -- Pam as new mother, me as (fairly new) grandmother.

As many of my readers can attest, Pam is in for the ride of her life -- with both the blog and, more importantly, the baby. I wish her the very best of luck with the challenges of both!

Photo courtesy stock.xchng.

Today's question:

Stereotype, schmereotype! What about you goes against the stereotype of someone your age?

White-girl green chili

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Green chili rules Pueblo, Colo., the city about 50 miles south of where I live. The Travel Channel recently did a "Food Wars" episode on the slopper competition between two Pueblo establishments (sloppers, for the uninitiated, are hamburgers smothered in green chili), and the annual Chile & Frijoles Festival has been THE summer celebration for 16 years running. The highlight of the Chile & Frijoles Festival is the chili competition.

My youngest sister, Susan, a resident of Pueblo, has made green chili her signature dish. For years she's brought green chili to family gatherings, given jars filled with the spicy nectar of the gods for Christmas, fielded and filled requests from co-workers and neighbors for jar after jar. Family, friends, neighbors -- many of whom are Hispanic natives of the city who have been devouring green chili for decades -- regularly exclaim that Susan's green chili is the best green chili they have ever tasted.

Yet Susan could never muster the nerve to enter the annual chili competition. She's a white girl, she kept telling herself; how could she expect to win a green chili contest entered by many whose families have passed down green chili recipes through generations?

Well, this year Susan did muster the nerve. She roasted, peeled and seeded her chilies. She crossed her fingers. She hoped the accolades she'd heard for years were warranted and that her white-girl green chili truly could earn one of the coveted top spots at the Chile & Frijoles Festival.

Yesterday, Jim and I and a few other family members braved the unrelenting heat of Pueblo to show our support of our little sister in the "chili and salsa showdown" at the 16th Annual Chile & Frijoles Festival.

As always, there were three categories: salsa, red chili and green chili. Seventy-three people entered the green chili competition -- the most popular category, according to the judges -- including Susan. Only three would be awarded a (small) cash prize and bragging rights. Forget the cash prize; the bragging rights were what Susan wanted most.

After several hours of walking among the booths in the carnival atmosphere, downing water, and eating kettle corn, the time finally came for the winners to be announced. Susan -- and the rest of us -- held our breath as the judges first named the three winners of the salsa contest.

Then they named the three winners of the red chili contest.

Then came the winners of Susan's category -- the green chili category.

And winning in third place, the very first name announced, was ... SUSAN!

Whoops and hollers, kudos and congratulations came from her assembled fan club! Susan made her way to the table to accept her certificate.

"There are some new names to the contest," the announcer said, and one of those name was my sister's. She had broken into the inner ring of the best of the best green chili-makers in the state. The very first time she entered!

My little sister and her white-girl green chili are true winners, true contenders. And she now has bragging rights to prove it.

Competitors at next year's festival take note: Plans for a triple-threat are brewing. Susan makes a pretty darn good red chili, too, and has already started brainstorming ideas for tweaks to the green to move her up to first place. Her partner, Mike, well, he's known for mixing up a mean, masterful, mouthwatering salsa. Like I said: Beware!

For my part, I'm happy to say I'll likely be one of the fortunate taste-testers throughout the coming year as Susan and Mike perfect their entries. And without a doubt, I'll be a happy recipient of some award-winning, white-girl green chili come Christmas!

Congratulations, Susan!

Today's question:

Have you ever entered a recipe or cooking competition?

Egghead grandma

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I recently ran across a pretty nifty gift for Bubby: Hatch-N-Grow dinosaur eggs!

How awesome is that!?

I ordered the eggs, they arrived, and I was quite excited to try one out before popping a few in the mail to Bubby, just to ensure it wasn't totally lame. (Sea monkeys anyone?)

Here's how it works:

I placed the egg -- the size of a regular chicken egg -- into a glass of water as directed. Per the package, I should have a little dinosaur head cracking through within 24-48 hours.

And I did!

Very cool! Get a load of that cute little dino grin!

Despite the "Age 3+" notation on the package, I just knew Bubby would love watching the dinosaur hatch. So I planned to send him not just one, but two packages, just in case he wanted twice the fun ... or just in case Megan wanted to use one to amaze the 4-year-olds in her classroom.

Megan called the other night to confirm the time of our weekly Skype session, and I told her about the very cool dinosaur egg, my practice hatch, and my plans to send Bubby a couple in the mail.

"He won't like that," she said.

"What? It's a hatching dinosaur! It's so cool! He'll love it!"

"No. He won't. He'll be scared of it," she assured me.

"Um, I don't think so," I responded. "I'm going to show him during our Skype session and you'll see. He's going to love it!"

We proceeded to Skype and I could barely contain my excitement as I grabbed the glass of water containing the magnificent emerging dinosaur and held it toward the webcam so Bubby could see.

He grew silent. And slowly leaned back into Megan for protection.

"It's a dinosaur!" I smiled and explained, trying to turn him on to the delights of the mini dino.

"Scary," he said so quietly that Megan had to translate.

"He's two, Mom. That's scary to him," Megan said.

I couldn't believe it. Yeah, the recommended age is three and up, but I figured that was because some little kids might eat pieces of the cracked shell. Or drink the water. Or bite off chunks of the dinosaur once it was fully grown. Not Bubby, though. He wouldn't do that. He'd be fascinated by the emerging prehistoric figure, I was sure.

But he wasn't. And isn't. And won't be for quite some time, apparently.

So I'll be packing away the boxes of eggs I purchased for Bubby. Unlike real eggs, they won't go bad. And I'm sure that by the time he's three, he'll be more than ready to plop an egg in a glass and keep a constant eye on the dinosaur's progress as it cracks through the egg.

In the meantime, I'll keep a constant eye on my dinosaur, eagerly awaiting the day it breaks completely free from the egg.

Maybe once it does I'll then show the fully hatched dino to Bubby during a Skype session. Maybe it's the egg that scares him! I'll just have the adorable mini dinosaur ready and waiting to surprise him during a Skype visit.

Of course I'll have to ask Megan first. As hard as it is to admit, Megan obviously knows better than Gramma.

At least when it comes to Bubby.

Sheesh ... this grandma gig isn't as cut and dry as one might think!

Today's question:

 Have you ever had a gift-giving experience fall stupendously flat?

Grilling up an old friend

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There's much to be said about old friends. Not old in terms of age, but in terms of being part of one's life a long time. This week's Grilled Grandma, Terri, is an old friend. And I have much to say about her.

Thing is, Terri hasn't actually been part of my life for nearly 20 years -- well, except for the exchanging of Christmas cards. Then Facebook brought us together again, and I'm oh-so glad.

Terri has always been one of my favorite people. She's also been the source of many memorable, off-the-wall compliments (she's just sweet that way). One I still think of often has to do with my daughters. Terri and my sister lived together and they offered to babysit the girls once when Jim won tickets to a concert. The prize package included a limo ride to the show. The limo arrived at the house to pick us up, but we asked the driver if he could first take the girls -- who were under the age of 10 -- for a spin around the block for their first limo experience. Terri and my sister went along with them. When they returned from their luxury ride, Terri commented that she was just amazed by how the girls converse with one another. She thought it was so cool Brianna, Megan and Andrea had a real conversation. With each other. Like little adults. I don't know why, but that struck me as funny -- and flattering that she thought my girls were interesting little conversationalists.

That's how Terri is: always flattering ... but in a unique way, saying unique things folks don't typically say. Now I'm flattered that my old friend and grandma let me grill her up here on Grandma's Briefs. In typical Terri fashion, she has a unique way of expressing her love and admiration for her grandchildren. They are so blessed to have her. Read what she has to say about the grandparenting experience in Grilled Grandma: Terri.

Today's question:

Who have you recently reconnected with thanks to Facebook?