Photo flashback: Once upon a September

Our first visit with the newlyweds in their new (and hot) neighborhood.
Back before they were parents, back before we were grandparents.

Lisa & Megan — Jim & Preston
September 2006

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

One thing I recall from September 2006 is _____________.

Celebrating no celebrations

For my oldest daughter's first birthday, I went all out. I recruited my mom to make a fancy birthday cake with adorable clowns o' frosting a la the Wilton Cake Decorating Cookbook, invited everyone with even the slightest interest in my daughter, packed our tiny apartment with well wishers and gifts galore.

It was the very best birthday party ever.

Until the next year, that is. And until the next child, too — two more of which arrived in rapid succession. Followed by two more first birthdays in equally rapid succession.

With that very first first birthday party for my very first daughter more than 31 years ago, I had set a precedent: Birthday parties in my house would be a big deal. Not expensive, for money was tight as could be considering we were a young family with three children birthed in a three-year span. But the birthday parties would certainly be festive. Each and every time.

Birthdays for my daughters were celebrated at home — no parties at pizza places, skating spaces or swimming pools. Each party had a specific theme chosen by the honoree, with homemade cakes, homemade favors for guests to bring home, homemade fun packaged in such a manner my daughters (hopefully) never realized their special days were celebrated at home because we couldn't afford the party packages offered by the fancy-schmancy peddlers of commercialized fun.

Fun as they were for the birthday girls and guests, that homemade packaging was exhausting for Mom. That would be me — the family party planner bound and determined to make memorable birthday moments for my daughters, come hell or high water, heaven help us all.

One birthday season when I was knee-deep in pre-party prep and freak-out fare — at this point I can no longer recall whose birthday or what theme — my own mom, in hopes of assuaging my stress, advised me, "You don't have to make every single birthday special, Lisa."

I disagreed vehemently... but silently, as I had too much to do, no time to argue my point. But, yes, I did have to make every single birthday special. Because there are so very few that parents get to celebrate with a child. Sixteen or so, if we're lucky, if friends don't win out over family sooner than that.

So I did my best to make birthday celebrations special.

I did my best to make holiday celebrations special, too. Everything from Valentine's Day on through New Year's Day featured special traditions and rituals, special food, special decorations and sometimes even special music. As was the case with our birthday celebrations throughout the childrearing years, our holiday celebrations were never expensive but they were festive. And memorable. And the stuff our family was made of.

And they were exhausting for Mom. That would be me, the holiday planner bound and determined to make memorable holiday moments for my daughters, come hell or high water, heaven help us all.

Little did I realize then how very few holidays I'd have to celebrate with my entire clan. I thought that even once the nest emptied, every child-turned-adult would flock home to celebrate the seasons with Mom and Dad, spouses and offspring in tow.

I've since realized how wrong that idea. Thankfully, though, how right it turned out to be that I did do the best I could each and every holiday while my girls lived at home. Because there were so few of those, too.

The big shebangs had their place, their heyday, but now the celebrations are smaller, in scope and in attendance. Celebrations take less work, yet they still require work.

That required work for birthday and holiday celebrations — exhaustive overloads in the past, minor smidgens today —  is one reason fall has long been my favorite time of year. The months of September and October, to be exact. Because during the months of September and October there isn't a single birthday, a single holiday I'm expected to celebrate. Nothing to plan or purchase or poke-my-eye-out-with-a-hot-poker-because-I-need-a-freakin'-break-from-special-celebrations sort of nonsense. None.

See, as much as I love my family and would now indeed poke my eye out to have them around again for family celebrations and to occasionally fill my (occasionally heart achingly) empty nest, I also love down time. Quiet time. Uneventful time. Time such as September 1 through October 30. Time with no celebrations. No celebrations is, for me, reason enough to celebrate.

True to my character, my past, my family-party-planning-personality, of course, I plan to make that celebration of no celebrations as absolutely special and memorable as possible.

By doing ab-so-lute-ly nothing.*

Happy No-Celebration season to you and yours! May it be everything you hoped it would be. And everything you hoped it would not be, too.

*Well, nothing related to celebrations, that is. The need for speed in securing income remains.

Today's question:

When is the biggest span of time with no birthdays/holidays/celebrations in your family?

Helping boys cope plus GRAND Social No. 70

I have three daughters. Lifting them up and doing all I could to help them cope with getting through girlhood on their way to womanhood was always top of mind for me as a mother. For decades, it seemed the concerns of girls and the issues they face were top of mind not just for myself and other mothers of girls but for society as a whole.

In the meantime, boys and their equally scary and scarring issues fell through the cracks. I never really considered the depth of despair mothers of boys might be going through while we mothers of girls had research and support of all sorts to help us muddle our way through raising our daughters.

Now that I have grandsons, though, I do consider the plight of boys. Fortunately society as a whole seems to be considering such things a bit more of late, too.

I recently learned of a new book that, though I've not yet read it, seems to me like one everyone — parents and grandparents of boys and girls — should look into. I've added it to my must-read list after seeing the trailer last week. I was so alarmed by the stats on boys that I felt compelled to share the trailer with you.

Take a look:

(Masterminds & Wingmen on Vimeo.)

This isn't a sponsored post nor is it a review of Masterminds & Wingmen. I simply think we all should find out more about how to lift up our sons and grandsons and help them cope in their journey from boyhood to manhood. This book might shed light on how to do that. If you know of other resources that could further make a difference for boys, feel free to share in the comments. And if you read Masterminds & Wingmen, I'd love to know what you think.

I'd also love to see you participate in GRAND Social No. 70 — by either sharing a link, reading the links of those who share or both. Let's dive in!

How it works:

• All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, just be a grandparent who blogs.

• To link up a post, copy the direct URL to the specific post — new or old — that you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue button marked with "Add your link" below and follow the directions.

• You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites, please.

• Adding a mention such as This post linked to the GRAND Social to your linked posts is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button anywhere on your page using the following code:

<a href="/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

• The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.


• If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. Bloggers who link up would be honored to have one and all — other bloggers as well as readers — visit, read and, if so moved, comment, even if just a "Hey, stopping by from the GRAND Social."

• For another grandparent linky, visit Connie's Grandparent's Say It Saturday Link Party each Saturday.

What I learned this week: Keeping the browns and the blues at bay

I love avocados. Jim hates avocados. So any avocados I buy are mine and mine alone to enjoy.

Because I usually only eat half an avocado at a time — in sandwiches, salads and so forth — the second half that I save for later often turns brown while sitting in the fridge waiting for me to nosh on it.

Not anymore.

This week I learned that if you lightly spray the cut avocado with cooking spray, it doesn't turn brown.

Seriously.

Pictorial proof is here:

The other day, I ate half an avocado on a sandwich at lunch time. I lightly sprayed the other half and stuck it in a baggie (bagging it loosely instead of having it touch the avocado flesh, just to see if the cooking spray really did work).

 

Five hours later I pulled the avocado half from the fridge to slice up for a dinner salad. It looked like this once released from its bag:

 

See? I kept the browns at bay, thanks to cooking spray. Easy-peasy.

Keeping the blues at bay isn't as easy-peasy, I learned this week.

As many of you know, my sister has been hospitalized for more than two weeks now. Yesterday she was moved from ICU to a regular floor. There was even talk she might get to go home in a day or so.

Hooray!

Just a few hours after my sister called with the good news, I got another phone call, one informing me my sister was back in ICU. She'd suffered another coughing/bleeding/nearly heart-stopping episode and had been returned to the unit where they could care for her best.

The blues instantly set in for many of us.

If only cooking spray could keep the blues away from hearts and minds as well as it keeps the browns from avocados.

That is what I learned this week.

May your weekend be grand, your browns and blues easily cured... or avoided in the first place.

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

12 things I'm not that I hope my grandchildren will be

1. Fearless

2. Musical

3. Able to swim. Or run a mile.

4. More educated — especially regarding history and geography

5. Unflappable

6. Tireless

7. Well-traveled

8. Multilingual

9. Civic-minded. Or (more) politically aware.

10. Able to parallel park. Or change a tire. Or drive a manual transmission.

11. Green-thumbed

And most of all when mulling over what one may not be:

12. Self-compassionate

Today's question:

What are you not that you hope your grandchildren (and children) will be?

Picture this: How pod people came to be... maybe?

A few weeks ago, I noticed several of these around my yard:

I was afraid to touch them for fear they were pod people embryos.

Or spider nests that would spurt forth scads of spiders if I broke them open.

Or, at the very least, proof of huge birds plopping huge — albeit perfectly formed — droppings all about my yard.

So I asked Jim to take a look and a poke... while I stood back, ready to run.

Turns out they're just the initial stages of these:

This photo from Pixabay.com, not my yard.

I've never have been much of a fan of mushrooms. The idea the mystery splotches might be the genesis of pod people seemed a far more interesting story.

Today's question:

What's the most mysterious thing in your yard today?

The B-baller and his brother

Look who's old enough to play on a youth basketball team. He couldn't be more happy about it.

Look who's not old enough to play on a youth basketball team. He couldn't be more unhappy about it.

Poor Mac. Such is the injustice of being the little brother.

Photos courtesy Megan, of course. Thanks, Meg!

Today's question:

Where do you fall in the line of siblings and would you have preferred a different position?