Grandma's Christmas Wish

Most any grandma will tell you all she wants for Christmas is time with her grandchildren.

This grandma (and grandpa) relished a visit to Washington, D.C. with one of ours. We crammed as many new experiences as we could into four days.
 
We were eye witnesses to Sam's first cab ride and time on the Metro. He licked his lips after his first crepe, nibbled at a buffalo burger. He piloted us through loop-de-loops in a flight simulator.





Together we were awed by the White House, hoping to spot an Obama family member. (Somebody left the White House in a short procession of black SUVs, but we don't know who.)  


We toured the Capitol building, and Ford's Theater. He listened carefully. He had his photo taken standing where MLK stood at the Lincoln memorial. 








Grandpa-the-historian fed Sam snippets of information and answered his questions.

I think bits of history now ricochet around his brain like balls on a pool table. Eventually he'll place them in the right contextual pockets. 

All of Sam's maturity, curiosity, energy, audacious auditory memory, and   mimicry were ours for those days. 

We are so blessed. Our adventure has woven our lives more tightly together.

 I wish all of you Nanas, PawPaws, Mimis and Gampys some of the same! 

Reciprocal Impact of Grandparents and Grandchildren

This absentee grandma doesn't have as much influence on her grandchildren as she would like. So for this summer's visit I planned a few activities that I hoped would develop character, strengthen core values, and make a lasting impression. 

One was a minor success. 

The children occasionally learn Bible verses in their Sunday School classes at home. To encourage the habit I gave each of the kids a small leather card holder and blank cards on which they could write a Bible verse. They wrote the verse on the card first and repeated it a few times. Then, word by word, they wrote each word on a colored shot glass. We scrambled the cups, then raced to see how quickly they could reassemble the sentence correctly. 

"That went well" I told myself. 

tough FBI man

Some days later they invented a cops and criminals game.  Sam created an FBI badge on the reverse side of his memory card, and folded the holder so that he could flip it open. I suspect he will remember the FBI badge longer than the spiritual lesson I envisioned. I reminded myself that creativity is an important trait too. 












More satisfying for us all, we made a list of blessings during the trip. It's a chronicle of the fun we enjoyed (and a record of the kids' spelling development.)  I've hung it near my desk where I can savor it often.  

#3  grandparents that love me

#15 making "carmel" corn with grandma

#30 jumping off the diving board with Sam

Sometimes I don't clearly see how I affect the grandkids, but their impact on me shines from every line. I'll cherish this list of memories until it's too faded to read. 

Oreo Turkey Cookies

Here's a fun cookie craft to do with the grandkids while you're waiting for the turkey to cook, or afterwards when they get tired of watching football.  Follow the link to the recipe.

I suggest you use frosting, I tried to hold everything together with peanut butter, and well--you can see ours don't look like theirs! 

Make a pumpkin vase for Thanksgiving

My grandchildren enjoyed creating this table decoration. 

First they scraped out all of the seeds. We cleaned and roasted them. 
They really were delicious.

Then, we walked through the neighborhood clipping little pieces of greenery and dried grass to add to the flowers. (It's okay, we didn't go into anyone's private yard.)

Finally we put a jar inside the pumpkin filled it water and created our floral arrangement! It lasted for three weeks.

The Betther Homes and Gardens website has some lovely ideas.

The Soccer Pink Card

My grandchildren are now playing soccer in beginner leagues.

The YMCA runs their program, and each game starts with an *oath to play fairly and respect all participants.

It’s a nice change from coaches who yell at six and seven year olds: “Are you guys dancing down here? This is soccer! We’re not dancing! Pay attention!” 

 Those coaches deserve yellow cards--caution for aggressive attitudes.  

getting ready for the oath

However, it’s not a problem for my granddaughter’s team. She’s part of the Pink Flamingos for 3 and 4 year olds. Their play wasn’t riveting, but their take on the game was a hoot. 

Two little girls wore the typical shorts, shin guards and knee socks, plus tutus. 

The youngest team member (left) was shuffled around the field by one of her parents. They took turns gently steering her in the direction of play, and telling her when to run or kick.

my go-getter on the far right

Most of the flamingos ran up and 
down the shortened field in a pack. Some understood they were to try to kick the ball into the goal. The only poor sportsmanship was when a couple of girls got frustrated and shouldered their teammates out of the way to get to the ball. Of course no referee gave yellow cards, and they never got rough enough to warrant a red card.

Occasionally they ignored the game altogether while one gave another a hug,   which should warrant an as-yet-unadopted good sportsmanship pink card. Better hugging than slugging! 

Go Flamingos!

*YMCA SPORTS PLEDGE: Win or lose, I promise to God to do the best I can, to be a team player and to respect my teammates, my opponents and officials, and to improve myself in spirit, mind, and body. 

B Grandma: a pit of neurosis

      One day while I chatted with a colleague I noted a little side table in her office. On it sat a cup of markers and pencils and a cube of colored sticky notes. Above the table kid-scribbled notes were pegged to the wall. A long chain of paper clips snaked around the table top. The woman followed my glance, and remarked that her grandchildren frequently came over after school. "I'm so glad I get to spend time with them. I'd hate to be  the B grandma."

Was a B grandma like a B team? I don't know if grandmas can drill and skirmish to improve their abilities. In my mind, the B grandma was less available, the less favored, the one lacking grandma zing! 

Was I an A or a B grandmother? I immediately, detrimentally began to compare myself to THE OTHER GRANDMA.

She was available, and watched the baby every Wednesday while great grandma and grandpa joined them for the morning coffee and infant entertainment.  It became known as Samday. He was the star of the morning and they showered him with affection. 

I, however, live 1500 miles away. I only saw him every 4-6 months, too long for toddler memory. My son-in-law invested in pre-Skype technology and Sam learned to recognize me over a TV and telephone connection.  Later, his little sister didn't take to the system as well, and every face to face visit required me to get reacquainted.  I tried to make up for lost time when I visited, but It felt like I wasn't making a big impact on the children. 

The other grandma is wonderfully creative and the kids adore her. As they matured she expanded their world in wonderful ways. When Sam was four she enrolled him in a clown clinic, created a cunning hobo costume, and he presented a solo gig.  I felt sorry for myself because I couldn't offer anything like that. 

When he was in kindergarten she signed up to be the class mystery guest. Well, gosh, I thought, I can do that, so on our next trip west I had my chance. I bought a funny book about a farting dog, which I thought would surely be a hit with Sam. Standing in line to enter class a little boy asked whose grandma I was. "Sam's" I told him. He remembered the A grandma. "Do you do magic tricks and tie balloons too?" 

"No, I read books." 

"Too bad" the little guy grumbled. 

Yeah, too bad for me I thought. I was even a B grandma to a five year old stranger!  

When our granddaughter called to tell us about the other grandma's new a puppy, I briefly, ridiculously, considered building a small corral in our large yard and getting a pony. 

Last week  Em called and told me about her kindergarten costume parade. Of course A-grandma had gone to the parade and sent me photos. Not only had she gone and immortalized the big event, she came in costume! 

Now, I really like the other grandma. I am glad she's a big part of Sam and Em's lives. But I do feel left out and under-gifted.   Like an athlete on the bench I don't get enough playing time and my inner coach says my performance lacks luster.  I've moaned about this for so long my husband now comforts me by saying "You're the best B grandma in the country."

 I've quit contending for the A spot.  I'm trying to shake loose from the comparison altogether. The whole A/B classification has created a black hole which sucks up joy.

And I avoid even thinking about the step-grandma's themed holiday weekends and the boatload of playmate cousins her daughters produced. I could slide right over the edge of sound judgement into C status and a big hole of self-pity. 

I know it's petty. I know children's affections aren't to be won by one-upmanship. I know that they love me. But if I were a kid, I'd rather spend time with the A-grandma too. I thought being a grandparent would be an effortless process.  Perhaps my expectations of the grandchild-grandparent relationship were unrealistic and too rosy. But deep down I feel disappointed by the bond I've been able to create with them, and discomfited to consider that genealogy doesn't guarantee warm fuzzy feelings.

My heart's longing is to have the love of my grandchildren. But the only thing I can control is that I love them with all that I have. Then the children are blessed, and I am blessed.

  

Ready...Set...Advent!

 Oh, how I love this time of year. It’s time to ready my heirs, my heart, and my home for celebrating the most wonderful event in history. 

I start preparing for the grandkids months ahead.  Because they are far away, and because they don’t understand waiting, I send one small gift for every day from December 1 to December 24th.  Jesus is my focus. I have sent them traditional advent calendars, nativity sets to open piece by piece with relevant Scripture and Bible story books. This year I'm sending the advent candles and candle holder hoping their families will begin a new tradition. Those are mixed up with crafts projects and inexpensive toys. 

One year I sent Sam two snow globes. When his little sister accidentally broke the first, he was crushed and called to tell me about it. I secretly instructed his mom to find the one labeled for later, and give it to him the next day. He was amazed that I could get it to Denver so fast! (Nothin’s too hard for a grandma.)

In preparing these “Celebrate Jesus” boxes my attention is drawn to the shiver-producing details like the wonderful angel visitations to Mary, Joseph, the wise men, the shepherds and their "Yes!" responses. 

"Yes! I will mother God in the flesh."

"Yes!" Joseph said, "I will do as You ask." 

The wise men said "Yes, we will travel a great distance following the star."

"Yes!" the shepherds said as they ran into Bethlehem to find the baby. 

I fill my ears and heart with centuries worth of beautiful lyrics and melodies.  It's hard to limit the choice, but one of my favorite contemporary songs is  Welcome to Our World by Chris Rice. "Yes, Lord Jesus, welcome to my world." 

(The grey letters indicate a link to a site for product information, or the songs. Just click on it.)

Last of all I decorate the house simply. We glean the yard for pine branches, holly, pine cones, and nandina. The natural greenery and the lights in the long dark days of winter transform the ordinary into something special. When we're home for the holiday I decorate a real tree with three generations of ornaments; the beautiful, the well-worn, and the ugly all commemorate Christmases past. 

What are your favorite advent traditions? I hope Janet will explain her Christmas Eve treasure hunt. I think I've fixed the settings so that you can leave a comment. Otherwise, send an email.  I'll do a follow-up blog to share your ideas. I can't wait to hear from you! 

Emotional Jet Lag: What Happens After Good-bye

I "lost" two hours in air travel this weekend.  I'll be additionally fatigued for the next few days. All of us who fly through time zones feel it to various degrees. 

The bigger adjustment for me will be the emotional lag, the living in one frame of feeling, while reliving the one I left. I think it's like jet lag. Plane trips disrupt my body rhythms.  The longing for my loved ones interrupts my thoughts, and takes longer to subside.

 It doesn't matter if you're the traveler or the one staying behind, the separation tears at your hearts. You have to adjust to the loss of immediate stimulation and response. Knowing you can't "play doctor" one more time, or hear the giggle of the one you cherish feels like an amputation.

We grandparents know the relationship can survive.  But we will miss the sweet sensation of  the child's hug, the little hand in ours. We crave the face to face chatter which Skype can't replicate. 

Despite technology distance makes communication lopsided. I can initiate calls or write to the kids, but they need their parents' help. And mom and dad are up to their eyeballs in the demands of the moment.

Virtual fun can't compete with roller skating or painting a bird house. And there's just no way to gather the kids from two families together via email or snail mail.

        How do I adjust to "love lag?"  

1. Be thankful. Savor the fun and joy we shared.
2. Chronicle the trip. I like to cement the memories with books of photos and narrative using Shutterfly .  I send  favorite photos of us together as postcards using the sticky-backs from PhotoStix
3. As a believer in God's "social media", I pray. Better than I, He can guide their school situations, shape their characters and meet family needs. 
4. Get busy. responsibilities eventually fill in some of the hole left by the separation.
5. Share the highlights. I brag about our adventures to my fellow grandparents. They empathize. 
6. Plan for the next visit! 

I bet you have other ways to cope, and I'd love for you to share them. If you don't see the comments box, hit "No comments" and see if the box opens. 

Super Grandma Needs Rescue

Some Super Grandma I am! 

I botched my last “mission” and a kind stranger, 1500 miles away, rescued me. 

I had mailed packages to both sets of grandchildren. But on one, I confused the streets and a stranger received the package. He checked the return address, but there was no name, just “Super Grandma.” Super Grandma had blown it, and he knew some little kids could be disappointed. Using his computer to do some kind of reverse search he found our phone number, called and left a message on my phone. He even offered to take the package to the kids. 

I went online to find him in the Denver, Co. directory and realized my mistake. I had used the correct house number, but the street of my other set of grandchildren. Duh!  Super Grandma - NOT! Luckily, one daughter lives 4 blocks from my white knight, so she picked up the package from him.

These little mistakes are getting more frequent, and I have some concern.  (Remember the crazy trip between airports in NYC I summarized in the Traveling Mercies blog, August 28?) A few days ago I called my husband in a panic from the gas station because I was unable to get the key back into the ignition. I tried and tried, and I feared I’d be late for a meeting. Then I remembered--I had both sets of keys, and I was trying to insert my key in his starter. 

I attribute these errors to being in a hurry, too busy, etc. But what if they’re an indication of mental decline?  I guess I’ll know it’s serious when it causes someone else to be alarmed. I flinch to even imagine myself in that state. 

I hope it’s not time for me to transform my cape into an apron.  

 

These photos were taken by Frenchman Sacha Goldberger of his grandmother. Read her story and see more photos at http://www.luxury4play.com/photography/66405-grandma-superhero.html

Time Bridge

  

     I married into a family whose legacy is 30 acres of forest perched beside a small tidal cove on Puget Sound. 

My grandchildren are the sixth generation to spend some part of their summers here. 

     Throughout our stay we bridge the past and the present for the children.

    

We sleep in a hundred year old barn built by a homesteading Swede. Some time ago my mother in law had the barn's massive square log walls restored and the interior retrofitted as a rustic living space.  Our beds sit where there was once hay.  A fire in the small wood stove chases the chill away, and its crackling is a gentle wake-up call.

    Hiking through the woods on the unpaved path we refer to as Norrie's road  we tell a story about the great-great grandpa for whom  it is named. On the way to the beach we point out the site of  Aunt Jane's wedding thirty years ago  and describe to the kids what their six year old mom wore.  My husband teaches the kids to catch crabs, poke gooey ducks (a type of clam), and build forts to be defended against the incoming tide the way he did.

   The grands are seven and under so their conception of the past is fuzzy. Currently their memory bridge is like a primitive jungle vine V stretched over a ravine. They need more afternoons pouring over photo albums learning the who's who of the family tree. They need more raucous dinners shared with second and third cousins, great aunt and uncle and lots of story telling.  

    We're building a bridge from Now to Then, and someday--to the future.