Pinterest: Because Not Every Grandma Is the Failure You Are

August 15, 2015August 23, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 4 Comments

There are grandparent blogs in profusion now. Sometimes I like to check them out, if for no other reason than to confirm that I have absolutely nothing in common with these people. Let me just start by saying that many of these sites perform a worthy service, addressing serious subjects affecting children’s wellbeing. I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the blogger whose apparent goal is to be just the best damned grandma on the internet.

These are the folks who crochet a complete 21-piece layette in a day and make their own touchy-feely books out of fabric scraps. Often you can recognize them by their fixation on Pinterest.com, where they are forever pinning pictures of their latest project while urging you to find your own creative muse.

Occasionally, when I feel I am not living up to my matriarchal potential, I will visit Pinterest and do a search for “things to make for grandkids.” I have found that this brings me back to reality in short order. Here is a sample of what you find.

First, let me state the obvious. This is a DIAPER. It’s entire raison d’etre is catching poop in all its forms. It will be put through the wash approximately 99 times in six months, after which it will be unrecognizable.

I have six grandkids. Had I attempted to make a mere dozen of these for each one at birth, that’s 72 diapers. If I continued to make them in ever bigger sizes until they were all potty trained, we’re talking well over 500. How OCD would you have to be just to start such a project?

VEGETABLE SKELETON. — VEGETABLE SKELETON, “SOMETHING FUN TO MAKE”

The assumption here is that I have nine different kinds of fresh vegetables in my refrigerator at one time. To my knowledge, I have never achieved that lofty goal. Then I’m supposed to believe that, should I actually go to the trouble of assembling a veggie skeleton for each grandchild, they would eat it. I know them. The only way most of them might finish it is if there were a Minecraft clue hidden underneath. The more likely scenario is that they will be chucking broccoli and carrot sticks at each other across the table.

That’s “Peppermint for focus, Basil for balancing, Lavender for relaxation, Orange for positive energy.”

All you need (in addition to the basic dough formula) is:
4 T coconut oil
2 T Redmond clay
2 tsp Xylitol
Pinch of Redmond Real Salt
2 tsp organic lemon extract
20-30 drops Liquid Stevia (vanilla)

I actually priced out these ingredients, and the cheapest versions I could find still came to $36.50. I can get a 4-pack of Play-Doh at Target for $2.99, less when it goes on sale. I don’t care that the DIY aromatherapy version will “make all of the difference to a little one’s state of mind.” You know and I know that the little ones are going to play with this for five minutes. Then they will eat it.

Okay, admittedly, you will have the green beans if you can wait “just a couple of months” for this thing to take shape. But personally I have trouble growing tomatoes in pots, so I can’t imagine what my tepee would look like should I attempt such an undertaking. Not like this, I’ll bet. Then I’d have to convince the grandkids that it’s just like playing in a plastic pop-up tepee from Toys R Us. They might buy that right up until the time a spider landed on someone’s head. I assure you I would never get Grace into it.

GRANDMA'S BRAG BOARD (JUST ONE OF MANY VARIATIONS) — GRANDMA’S BRAG BOARD (JUST ONE OF MANY VARIATIONS)

Huh? I thought that’s what the front of the refrigerator was for.

Well, who doesn’t have an old cabinet, a chalkboard and four wheeled casters lying around? Knock this together and you’ll be able to park the grandkids at the end of the driveway, where they can earn money for that college education – or approximately 75 cents a day.

Here’s the lemonade station my grandkids and some friends set up this summer while their parents were attempting to unload crap at their yard sale.

BUDDING ENTREPRENEURSHIP AT WORK — BUDDING ENTREPRENEURS AT WORK

Of course, it doesn’t have the panache of the Pinterest model. But if anyone was in possession of an old cabinet, a chalkboard and four wheeled casters, I’m guessing they were probably on sale in the yard.

I could go on, but why?

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Photo credits:
Diaper: babyvilleboutique.com
Veggie skeleton: feedingfourlittlemonkeys.blogspot.com
Play dough: skiptomylou.org
Bean tepee: todaysmama.com
Brag board: emmymom2.com
Lemonade stand: mycreativedays.com

In Grace Land

August 8, 2015August 14, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 3 Comments

My granddaughter Grace turned ten last week. I think she’s happy about it. She isn’t one to call attention to herself by jumping up and down screaming, “Double digits! Double digits!” or anything. Actually, it’s hard to believe that Grace is descended from a long line of loud, opinionated women.

She spent the night at my house a few days ago. We were sitting on the sofa, Gracie watching a movie and playing a game on my Kindle while I read a book and felt guilty. Just as I was thinking we should be doing something more stimulating, she said, “This is nice.” Wait, what? Grace is good with this? Yes! Grace is having a good time!

She is still an avid shutterbug. I can’t tell you how many pictures I have on my smartphone of Grace’s eyeballs and the inside of her mouth, to say nothing of the random strangers she shoots out the car window while I’m driving. “Who the hell is this?” I wonder later, scrolling through shots of sweaty runners and dog-walkers and, oh look, here’s another picture of Grace’s feet. While I remain technologically impaired, she manipulates the bells and whistles on my phone with ease. I think this amuses her, although she is too polite to say so.

Gracie has started playing volleyball and softball, which she seems to like and have an aptitude for. Needless to say, she never complains about the officiating. She still likes to paint and draw. Here’s a picture of me bearing an uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Incredible.

In honor of Grace reaching the decade mark, I rummaged through some things I wrote several years ago but never posted. This is from Feb. 10, 2010, when she was four:

“I helped daughter Jill paint her bathroom on Saturday. It’s a small bathroom that should have taken about two hours to paint but ended up taking five, what with the unplanned trips to Home Depot and the three observers aged four, five and nine lined up outside the bathroom door on two kiddy chairs and one overturned bucket (Christian still in his pajamas and Grace in her tutu and flowered coronet), arguing that they were too old enough to paint. Not that they thought their mother would cave, but I might be co-opted to use my influence on their behalf. I didn’t crack though. I was firm. I told them they could paint when they come to my house. I have a lot of leftover cans of paint in the basement, so I figure I can just let them have at the concrete blocks, and how bad could it be?”

Well, I never did let them loose in the basement. I’m indulgent, but I’m not a fool.

Ah, Gracie Girl. How did you get to be ten so soon? When did you stop wearing tutus and put on a baseball cap? And when another ten years have passed, will you still sit with me on the sofa and say, “This is nice, Grandma”?

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On Three

August 3, 2015August 15, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 1 Comment

My youngest grandchild, Lee, turned three this week. He’s a funny little kid. He keeps his own counsel, although he is always clear about what he wants. This is him three years ago, the youngest of six grandkids and resigned to his fate, as it were…

lee in carseat — ALL THE GUM IS GONE, ISN’T IT?

Nothing has changed much. He’s not overly demanding (for three), but he will not be deterred. At the moment he wants Juicy Fruit gum. That is my sole role and purpose in life, as far as he is concerned: purveyor of Juicy Fruit gum. It doesn’t matter if I say I don’t have any gum, I forgot the gum, sorry. Five minutes later he is back, wanting gum. It isn’t that I don’t want him to have gum, it’s that invariably he does one of two things. The first is to swallow it.

Lee: Grandma, can I have gum?
Me: I just gave you gum. What happened to it? Did you swallow it?
Lee: No.
Me: Where is it?
(He points to his tummy.)
Me: It’s in your tummy?
Lee: Yes.
Me: No, no, you have to spit it out when you’re finished! Just chew it and spit it out. Don’t swallow it, okay?
Lee: Okay.

I give him another stick of gum. He doesn’t swallow it. This is the second thing he does: after two minutes he spits it out. Then he wants more gum. It’s like playing Juicy Fruit Monopoly. Pass Go, Collect Gum. I can only hope that at some point I will be bankrupt.

He is a smart kid, but sometimes he still has trouble telling truth from not-truth…

Gina: Lee, wash your hands for supper.
Lee: Did.
Gina: No, I don’t think so. Go wash your hands for supper.
Lee: Did.
Gina: Lee, if you don’t wash your hands, no pudding cup for dessert.
Lee: Okay. (He leaves for the bathroom.)

This works because her children know Mom means what she says. She doesn’t raise her voice or repeat herself. You simply will not get a pudding cup, no way, no how. This is starkly different from their interactions with me. He doesn’t believe me when I say I have no gum, and there is precedent for that.

Lee: Grandma, do you have gum?
Me: Oh, I forgot to bring gum! I’m so sorry.
Lee: Grandma, can I have gum?
Me: No, no gum right now.
Lee: Can I have gum?
Me: After dinner you can have gum.
Lee: Can I have gum?
Me: Okay.

Sometimes he wants a Tootsie Roll Pop instead of gum. There is no point in describing what that conversation is like. You have already heard the gum story.

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Because He’s Five, That’s Why

July 19, 2015August 14, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 3 Comments

My grandson Bret Jr. turned five yesterday. He marked the occasion by giving himself a Minion haircut (see photo), in preparation for his Minion-themed birthday party. And because, he says, it looks cool. Well, you can see the amazing resemblance…

Come to think of it, my own children were about five when they decided to try their hand at cosmetology, although I don’t recall that they started at the top of their heads, so maybe that’s a boy thing.

He got a fair share of Minion-related birthday presents, of course, and one friend gave him a book on raising chickens, along with a plastic chicken feeder and watering dish. He and his sister are desperate to raise chickens in their backyard. Well, mostly his sister, but he is one of her biggest supporters. You might think they live out on a country road somewhere, but they actually live in a heavily populated suburb of St. Paul. Nevertheless, their father is going to check with the city to see how many chickens they can have, while their mother, who suffers from severe ornithophobia, says she is willing to fry up the eggs. Because that’s how they are. This simply means that I will have to spend a portion of every visit outside looking at the chickens and exclaiming over the chickens and trying to avoid being pecked.

Anyway, Bret. A happy, smart, funny little boy who still assumes his seven-year-old sister knows more than I do about most things but doesn’t follow her around as blindly as he did two or three years ago. He is into action heroes, which is why I’ve had a little 5-inch man lying on the box next to my back door for a couple of months with instructions not to let anyone move him. I don’t.

Yes, birthday season is upon us. I have two more grandkid birthdays coming up in about a week. It wears me out some, but it is seldom boring.

Birthday Season

June 10, 2014August 14, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 3 Comments

Birthday season is upon us. We have birthdays throughout the year, of course, but from May 24 to the end of July, it’s birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday, birthday. The sons-in-law, present and future, must get sick of it. Even I get sick of it. They’re good sports though. They usually show up.

We celebrated daughter Jill’s birthday at my house a week ago Saturday. It rained hard all day, so no sending the grandkids into the backyard and letting them loose on the wildlife. I have a playroom full of toys upstairs. Sometimes they play in there; more often they haul things out and leave them in various inconvenient places around the house. One of their favorite things to do is jump off the bed in the guest room into piles of blankets and pillows. From downstairs you hear thump, crash, scream, thump, laughing, thump, crying. Someone could be killed up there, but we first-floor dwellers like to pretend all is well right up until the time someone has to administer first aid.

Sometimes they call us from the phone in my room. (Jill last week: “Stop calling me. Do you hear me, Grace? Just stop now.”)

You’d think Lee, who turns two in July, would be a little intimidated, but he isn’t. He’s child #3 and no one has told him he’s fragile. Usually he just does whatever his three-year-old brother, Bret Jr., is doing. Bret falls on the floor, Lee falls on the floor. Bret stomps his rain boots, Lee stomps his rain boots. Bret shows off his Batman pajamas, Lee shows off his Superman pajamas. And so it goes. Riding in the car is interesting. He hates stop lights. The car rolls to a stop, and he starts yelling, “Go! Go-o-o-o!” Also, for some reason, he calls me Grandpa. I tell him, “No, Lee, Grandma. Grandma Judy.” I could be talking to the garden gnome.

Bret Jr. assumed the role of event photographer this time around, which is how I end up with pictures like this:

Meanwhile, six-year-old Cosette informed me that by the age of 13, you know everything there is to know. I have no idea what kind of convoluted thinking led to this conclusion. I never argue with her. She’s creative.

I made cupcakes for the party. Well, I always make cupcakes, because the only kind Christian can eat are dairy-free, so that’s the kind I make. This time, however, I found a mystery bag of Baking Flour in the cupboard with a farmer or a sailor or something on it. I think I’ll use up this flour, I thought. So I did, only to discover too late that it was wheat- and gluten-free. Probably no one will even know the difference, I thought. But they did. I cannot be expected to put on the perfect party for every occasion, now can I.

New rule for next birthday: no using Grandma’s artificial fruit as hand grenades.

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The Engagement

May 25, 2014August 15, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 4 Comments

Jessica and John decided to get married. And since no one could think of a reason why they shouldn’t, here we go.

My family is a lot like a sitcom. It just takes something like a wedding to make it obvious. Daughter Jessica didn’t want anyone to know she was engaged until she announced it on her birthday in June. So of course, within the week, half the family did know. Then they had to act like they didn’t know.

She swung into full wedding mode, with John and I carried along in the undertow. Because a wedding has a life of its own, you know. Like the tide, once it’s barreling in, all you can do is keep swimming.

Meanwhile, the big announcement was still out on the horizon. Then John thought, No, things aren’t nutty enough. I think I’ll surprise Jessica with a pre-announcement announcement party. And because no one had told him he was marrying into a sitcom family, this seemed doable to him.

Thus began the maneuvering to bring six kids, a cake, a jacket, a ring, twelve yellow roses, and signs spelling out WILL YOU MARRY ME JESSICA? to Stillwater on Memorial Day weekend.

There was a script. Christian was supposed to hand John the sports jacket, Grace the flowers, and Maria the ring. Except, being a nine-year-old boy, Christian was opposed to being part of the proceedings in any way. We kept moving. The six nieces and nephews were designated to hold up the six homemade signs, with the question mark going to Lee, who will be two in July and is apt to balk at any request unusual or not. We figured it wouldn’t much matter if the punctuation fell off.

On Saturday morning, Jessica and John started off on a tandem bike for the 36-mile ride to Stillwater. Because that’s the kind of thing they do. By 3:30 most of the welcoming party had gathered at an outdoor restaurant on the river, where we plied the kids with food and high-sugar-content beverages to keep them from accosting the other patrons. By 5:30 we were on our way up the hill to another restaurant for the big moment. They put us in a small room with a door, which was smart. Then we waited. Gina made the kids do a practice run. Christian reluctantly accepted his fate. Grace complained that the thorns were poking her fingers. Maria was resigned as only a 13-year-old can be. Cosette commandeered my camera. Bret Jr. sshh’d everyone. Lee refused to leave his mother’s lap. I had another glass of wine.

At 6:30 Jessica and John came in and… everything was perfect. Well, a couple of signs were upside down, but it didn’t matter much. Jessica was verklempt. John was happy. Everyone else was exhausted.

On to The Little Chapel in the Woods!

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All Together Now…

January 28, 2014August 8, 2014 ~ Judy ~ 2 Comments

So, long time no post. I feel guilty. I do. It wouldn’t bother me except that I’m supposed to be chronicling my grandchildren’s formative years. If I don’t do it, who will? Nobody, that’s who.

It’s January, so obviously I didn’t get around to reporting on the annual school Christmas programs in a timely manner. I have five grandkids attending that grade school now. You’d think there’d be a prize or something, but so far zip.

Bret Jr. Is Enthusiastic

Boy Bret performed admirably in the preschool Christmas program. He sang when he was supposed to sing, sat when he was supposed to sit, and when it was time to hold their paper trees and stars aloft and sway to the music, he could have been conducting the William Tell Overture.

Cosette Speaks

The elementary school program, meanwhile, put all the classes on stage at the same time. None of that tedious shuffling back and forth we’ve seen in the past. Lined up front and center were the kindergartners, clueless as cattle, a pair of animal ears or horns stuck on each little head. Cosette was a cow. It was a speaking part. Which makes a lot of sense if you know her.

Grace Endures

The second-grade girls were little angels. No, really. They had wings. At one point between songs, I looked over and saw Grace sitting on the riser, chin in hand, looking about as bored as anyone wearing wings and a tinsel halo can.

Christian Is Good

There was less poking, nudging and tittering among the third grade boys than you might expect. Christian isn’t usually what you’d call a model of decorum, but he stood up straight, sang and didn’t cross his eyes once … which is more than I can say for some of his friends.

Oh My Maria

So there they were, the entire student body (it isn’t a big school) gathered on stage. I expected to be somewhat moved, surrounded as I was by progeny. What caught me off guard was seeing Maria wearing a little black dress and standing with the other seventh grade girls. I remembered her first Christmas program. She had her elf hat on backwards so the bell on top dangled down in her face. I looked over at Cosette standing amid a herd of pint-size sheep and donkeys. And I’ll tell you the truth, I could have wept.

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Take Your Best Shot

October 5, 2013August 15, 2015 ~ Judy ~ 8 Comments

Not long ago, I made a startling discovery. I don’t need eyeshadow anymore. That’s right. I am at an age where the skin around my eyes pretty much matches the color of my eyeshadow. You probably think I’m exaggerating. Take a look.

Okay, which eye has the eyeshadow? Isn’t easy, is it?

Which doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped wearing eyeshadow. What if someone said, “Oh, I like your eyeshadow,” and I had to say, “Thanks. I’m not wearing any.” How embarrassing would that be? An awkward moment all around.

So I’m dealing with these changing appearance issues, and in the meantime, I know the time has come to update my profile picture – on this blog, on Facebook and anywhere else you need to slap a photo.

I like my old profile picture. I was three years younger then…

JUDY, CIRCA 2010

In the interest of full disclosure, however, you have to update these things once in a while; otherwise, you’re like those people on Facebook who put up a picture of their cat, or worse, a picture that’s 12 years old but you like it better than any of your recent, more telling photos because you were thinner then and life hadn’t etched permanent worry lines around your mouth. Man up, I say. These people are your “friends.” They know what you look like.

Confident in the knowledge that I don’t want to be THAT GUY, I got up yesterday morning (I look my best at dawn), put on a full complement of makeup and snapped approximately 54 self-photos in a futile attempt to find one that resembled the me of three years ago. A sampling:

REVIEWING PICTURES #1 TO #53.

IS THAT A PIMPLE? I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT.

DEFINITELY NOT.

HONEST, BUT NO.

SOMETHING IN MY EYE.

A FACELIFT MAYBE?

MILDLY AMUSED. SLIGHTLY BEMUSED. YUP, THAT’S IT.

If you guessed the right eye, you’re right.

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Move It, People

October 1, 2013August 15, 2015 ~ Judy ~ Leave a comment

My oldest daughter, Jessica, and her Committed Other (let’s call him John, since his name is John) bought a house. They had to, as the one-bedroom apartment she’s lived in for the last twelve years could no longer contain them. The new house has four bedrooms. They need four bedrooms. They moved last weekend.

Let’s face it: no one wants to help anyone move. That’s why God made family groups. The attack on Jessica’s apartment was many-pronged – a gathering of reluctant souls from all points of the compass – and it still wasn’t enough humanpower to get it done in a day.

The thing is, these people are too old. Jessica and John, that is. They are mature adults, each of whom has been accumulating consumer goods for decades. Jessica’s things have been overflowing into my basement since college. John’s belongings were spread out from here to Iowa, locked in storage or trying the patience of various relatives, from the time he sold his previous house.

I was thrilled when I found out Jessica was getting her own basement. Two carloads and then some, and I still haven’t managed to shift everything from Here to There. I will though. How long can a mother hold onto the treasured crap her kids can’t live without but will ignore for years? I still have two wedding gowns upstairs. The owners each have three kids of their own now. What am I, the Smithsonian?

The new homeowners’ new living room currently has about 30 boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jessica told me she moved a full-size box spring and mattress out to the garage by herself today, something I did not expect to witness in my lifetime. The new garage is full too, of course, and I think they are finally considering the benefits of purging. Throw it out, give it away, drop it off a bridge at midnight.

I bring it up because it seems to me that the problem of disowning our belongings is reaching crisis proportions. People will do almost anything to get rid of stuff they can’t use and don’t want to pay to have hauled away. Leave it on the curb and hope someone desperate will drive by and take it. “Donate” it to the Goodwill after hours. We should stop buying stuff, yes we should. We won’t though. I’d bet a box spring and mattress on that.

I could go on, but why?

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The Fourth Star on the Left

April 21, 2013August 14, 2015 ~ Judy ~ Leave a comment

I added a star to the tattoo on my ankle yesterday in honor of my sixth grandchild, Lee, now 9 months old and definitely star-worthy. It was a little hard finding exactly the right position for star #6 and then it ended up slightly bigger than I expected, which is the kind of thing that happens to me, but nevertheless I’ll be taking my six-star ankle to the grave, unless of course a seventh star comes along, but what the heck, let’s just put the whole damn galaxy on grandma’s foot.

Today five-year-old Cosette called several times saying we needed to go to Target right away so she could show me what to buy for her birthday, just around the corner next September. I felt guilty saying no until she said, okay then, she had to call Auntie Jessica, goodbye. Her brother Toddler Bret calls me regularly as well. For some reason he always seems agitated on the phone. He left me a happy birthday message recently that sounded like he was being attacked by pirates.

On Thursday I drove for an hour through snow and sleet to watch Christian’s wrestling match only to find it was cancelled due to the weather. (It’s almost May, for cripe’s sake.) Now eight, he just started wrestling and takes it very seriously. He came out of his first practice and told his mother, “I can’t show you any moves, Mom, because I might hurt you.”

A few Saturdays ago, 12-year-old Maria came over to get help building a model of the Eiffel Tower for a school project. I have never built the Eiffel Tower before, but apparently my expertise in this area is legendary. We made it out of shoeboxes, of which I have an ample supply. Well, not really out of the shoeboxes but from hundreds of little pieces cut out, glued together and sprayed heavily with black paint. I figured the Eiffel Tower was easier to build than some other famous structures I can think of. Her friend Madeleine chose the Colosseum in Rome, which her father helped her build out of a laundry basket and I’ll bet that was no picnic.

Which brings us to seven-year-old Grace. The last time she was at my house, she watched me applying face makeup with endless questions about what different products were designed to do. I explained, for example, that due to some unfortunate over-tweezing in my youth, I have to pretty much draw on eyebrows now, and that should be a lesson to her not to go around mindlessly plucking at things, and anyway her eyebrows are perfect so it shouldn’t even be an issue. Always take advantage of these little moments to teach, that’s what I say.

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