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?