Category Archives: Being a Mom and Grandma

Is It Ever Too Late To Make Amends?

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Is it ever too late to say you’re sorry, to make amends, to repair the damage? That’s actually today’s theme but you have to keep reading to figure out where this is all going.

When I see these guys skateboarding together, it hits hard. It fills my heart with joy but it’s also bittersweet to realize that so much time has passed. Tick. Tock.

OG skater dad is his hero right now. The kids had no idea their teacher dad could skate.

Being well-rounded and balanced is important, right?

When the original Angel Boy wanted a skateboard, I weighed the pros and cons (cos it could be dangerous) and decided that it was a way to balance his intense interest in books and school, not that academic success wasn’t critical for his future, but skateboarding helped him feel “cool” and more relatable with schoolmates. It was about the only time his head wasn’t buried in a book.

As far back as elementary school, his nickname had been “the professor”, which was actually, happily, prophetic, but he enjoyed skating so much that we worked hard to get a skatepark built in our city and also created an Explorer Post to be eligible for donations which eventually funded the members on a state-wide skatepark trip, which was EPIC.

There was a skate shop near school where the kids would hang out and that’s where they met some of the famous skaters from SoCal: Danny Way, Hawk (of course), Sal Masekela, and Muska. Angel Boy even named his kitty after Muska.

It was a really nice time to be a kid, before our stupid little town ruined it all by rampant overdevelopment.

Here he is, nicely executing a flip. I can’t count the probably thousands of times this move had been practiced and failed and practiced again until he was proficient. What my mom brain sees in this photo is that he’s not wearing ANY protective gear. It’s a miracle he only ended up with one concussion and a couple of broken bones. No one wore helmets or knee/arm/wrist guards back then. What were we thinking?

The original Angel Boy

During high school, at the height of his interest in skating, we built a half-pipe in the backyard and our house was the cool place to be. I was kept busy supplying the kids with cookies and smoothies. #goodtimes #smothermother

Then there were many inevitable graduations and milestones; a doctorate and post-doc; an empty nest. The skate ramp was silent and began to deteriorate as it was never used nor maintained.

An executive decision was made to have it dismantled because it was in such poor, sad, unsafe shape.

At one point, when AB came home and saw it was gone, he was NOT at all happy. He felt that he hadn’t been included nor consulted in the conversation and not only was it a surprise, but I think it represented the end of a happy chapter in his life.

Actually, over the years I had explained to him a few times that he needed to help maintain it if he still wanted to use it, and like most things I said, he either didn’t listen (or ignored me), but in hindsight I agree that I could have been more sensitive. I guess I didn’t know how much it meant to him. It was an important rite of passage.

But I did something even worse…

I got rid of his skateboard! I didn’t do it with malice, honestly!

One day I was cleaning out the garage and thought it was never again going to be an activity he was interested in so I set it out near the street. I literally had no idea that he would ever want it for any reason; to ride or for the memories of all the fun he had skating OR to share with any future children…

But I was wrong…I was such a bad mom!

During a visit home, he asked for his skateboard because he wanted to show the kids some of his cool moves and when I told him I had put it out in the driveway and someone took it, he was SO ANGRY!

I fully understand that he felt betrayed and I felt horrible about it, especially since I’m known for never throwing anything away. Why that? I have no idea, but I did, I admit it.

I’ve been trying to make amends for the last twenty years. Yup, that was all about twenty years ago.

And now I’m offered the opportunity to make it right.

His clone, AB 2.0, is now obsessed with skateboarding!! He went to a skate camp this summer and got his very first real skateboard. Like all the sports he’s tried, he has some real talent, just like his dad. Watch out, Tony Hawk!

Is there anything more adorable than seeing a little guy all decked out in a helmet and safety gear, positioning himself to drop in? I think not.

Bad pic from a video AB 2.0

In this case, it’s not too late to make amends because I was finally able to replace AB’s sk8board and that feels good.

I did it. I made amends. I bought the skateboard; I made the necessary reparations and repaired the bad mom damage.

Even better, I was able to watch those guys skate together which is such a mom/grandma moment. Heart is bursting with love!

(And hopefully, Dad WILL wear his helmet at all times, or I’ll hear about it when the kids call me to tattle on him.)

Sometimes it’s not too late. All is takes is the honest willingness to want to make things right, even two decades later.

Earworm, Courtesy of Leon Russell

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Because both of the Angel Kids’ eyes literally roll back in their heads when I make them listen to Leon Russell music, I found a slightly obscure song called “Too Much Monkey Business”. It’s more spoken than sung, like a precursor to rap music, and was written by Chuck Berry in 1956.

I played it and the Angels started singing along, as it’s a very catchy tune. I’d call out “How much monkey business” and they’d respond, “Too much monkey business!”

This song is totally earworm-worthy because they couldn’t stop singing it to themselves. All day long, during breakfast and helping to organize their books so we could donate some, I heard them quietly repeat “too much monkey business”, or “too much for me to be involved in.”

I said, “Cool song, huh?” as I planned my final move in my neverending quest to make them love Leon as much as I do.

When we sat on the sofa together after dinner playing card games, I asked Siri to play “Too Much Monkey Business” by Leon Russell and AB said, “Wait, that was LEON? It didn’t sound like him!” I replied, “That was my little joke. You had no idea you were singing one of his songs hahahahaha!”

Too late to stop it from happening; the lyrics are firmly embedded in their brains. They changed the words to: “How much Grandma business?” and “Too much Grandma business.”

They grudgingly agreed it was GOOD but asked me to pleasepleaseplease stop dancing because I was embarrassing them. I can only imagine the many ways I’ll be an embarrassment when they’re teenagers. It’s a rite of passage. They can ask their dad for confirmation.

Those kids are uber funny but I won. They’re now listening to and appreciating the Master of Space and Time–in spite of themselves. My work here is done.

Runnin’ to and fro, hard workin’ at the mill
Never failed in the mail, yet come a rotten bill
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Salesman talking to me tryin’ to run me up a creek
Say, “You can buy it, go on, try it, you can pay me next week” ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Blonde-haired, good lookin’ tryin’ to get me hooked
Want me to marry, get a home, settle down, write a book, ha
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Same thing every day, gettin’ up, goin’ to school
No need to be complainin’, my objections overruled, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Payphone, somethin’ wrong, dime gone, will mail
I ought to sue the operator for tellin’ me a tale, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

I been to Yokohama, been fightin’ in the war
Army bunk, army chow, army clothes, army car, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in

Workin’ in the fillin’ station, too many tasks
Wipe the windows, check the tires, check the oil, dollar gas, ah
Too much monkey business, too much monkey business
I don’t want your botheration, get away, leave me be

Too much monkey business for me

Evolution of The Mom Hug

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I’m at #3 with Angel Boy, #2 with Angel Girl.

I remember that the original Angel Boy was about fourteen years old when he entered the final stage, taller than me. Now I have to get on my tiptoes to hug him and HE bends down to me.

In my mind, he’s still and forever #1 or #2, so it doesn’t seem right that the roles have reversed, and it won’t be long before the Angel Kids will also be taller than me, because mostly everyone else is.

I guess that’s why they call me Little Grandma.

**I found this on Pinterest, but credit goes to artist Giselle Dekel.**

“Why are you always in the kitchen?”

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These incredibly observant Angel Kids of mine are full of nonstop chat as they watch my every move with their laser focused eyes and brains, especially when they sit at the counter (their favorite spot), waiting to be served exactly like baby birds in a nest with their beaks open wide for mom to bring a freshly caught worm..

“Why are you always in the kitchen, Grandma?” “It’s like you have a force field around you and you’re stuck in there.” (He is SO funny.)

“Yeah, Grandma, you’re always in the kitchen!” Angel Girl has to offer her opinion, too. ALWAYS.

I stop chopping veggies or flipping pancakes or cutting the crust off another slice of bread (only for Angel Girl), and respond with a question,

“Why are you guys always hungry?”

Well, that made them think a bit, that’s for sure.

“Good point”, Angel Boy 2.0 sagely nods as he ponders what I meant by that, as he chews on a slice of apple.

Those kids LOVE apples as a pre-meal snack. Sometimes dipped in nut butter, but they’re perfectly satisfied with a bowl of sliced apples.

The key is to give each of them their own bowl or they’ll squabble about equal amounts. “Why does s/he have more than me?” Since I only birthed one child, I’m not used to this kind of sibling behavior. I actually find it incredibly annoying and to avoid listening to it, for me, separate bowls are the easiest solution.

They eat a lot, not junk food or snacks, but wholesome and dense nutrition. That’s what healthy kids do; eat, play, sleep. They’re exactly like puppies. Their growing bodies and brains demand it and I’m only too happy to oblige.

“Play with us, Grandma. We’ll even play Candyland just for you. Or Scrabble.” That’s quite the concession on their part, as they know those are my two favorite games.

“How about after you guys have this smoothie and ants on a log and a (lentil/oat/kale) muffin, we’ll play. How does that sound?”

Two curly heads nod in unison.

Eat, play, sleep.

******************************************************

Featured photo by Enchanted Seashells at Crystal Cove. Vintage kitchen, not mine.

A Grandma’s Mantra: “Read a book…” 📚

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Back when the original Angel Boy began to walk and talk, my default response when the “I’m bored, I have nothing to do” complaints started, has always been, “Go read a book.”

Now I do the same thing to the grandkids, especially Angel Boy 2.0 who has become a wonderful reader.

Recently we were in a baseball card shop and he was TAKING LITERALLY FOREVER to look at cards and decide which ones he wanted to buy and figure out how much of HIS money he was willing to spend and how much he could get from me. That scenario brought up happy deja vu memories of his parsimonious dad at the same age. The thrifty apple didn’t fall too far from THAT tree, haha.

I walked outside, I walked back in, I pulled on his shirt and whined, “Are you almost done? I’M SO BORED!!”

Without skipping a beat, he said, “Hey Grandma, why don’t you go read a book!”

And then he laughed and I laughed but I got the last laugh because that proved that he had really listened to me. A total win for Grandma!

I gotta confess though, I was SO BORED in that card shop, every minute seemed like an hour. Memories.

It’s really funny, because the original AB is NEVER without a book and leveraged that love of reading into a Yale PhD, writing his own book (published by a prestigious house), and tenure at a major uni, so I guess my annoying mantra helped guide his path to success.

Grandma’s Mantra:
📚 If you’re bored, read a book!
📚 If you have a minute before school starts, read a book!
📚 If you’re waiting for a doctor’s appointment, read a book!
📚 If you can’t think of anything productive to do, read a book!

Try my method; it really works!

📚

Ugly/Cute | Birks and Crocs

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Apparently, I could resist no longer. The primal pull of these Birkenstocks were too great; I succumbed to the ugly cuteness of these shoes.

What sealed the deal for me was their Hello Kitty pinkness. The style might be hideous but that color draws me in every single time.

I get it now. They are essential; maybe not as adorable as a pair of stilettos, but in their own way, they’re fashionable and even princess-y, don’t you agree?

Even better, they were on the clearance aisle at Nordstrom Rack, so I scored in my own strange, thrifty manner.

If you see me walking around with my Birks and socks, just nod and carry on.

But wait! It gets worse!! Much worse…both Angel Kids have Crocs with charms to embellish their weird looking shoes, so I became obsessed with them, too.

I found some kid-sized offbrand “crocs” for about three dollars (yay for thrifty me!) and subsequently discovered these adorable charms, so now I am officially chic/unchic. I’ve been wearing them for gardening so they haven’t been out in public yet, haha. “Mom, Grandma, Boy Mom“, how could I NOT represent my tribe???

Crocs and Birks, what the heck has happened to me? What’s next? Will I stop shaving my legs and run around naked like the hippies who lived at Taylor Camp, the 1970s commune on the island of Kauai?

Not. A. Chance. Nope. Not bloody likely. Not gonna happen. But I’ll wear the shoes…

I Found Love 💖

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I found love in the form of a perfectly heart-shaped beach rock. I looked down and there it was, right next to my towel.

Angel Girl calls them “love hearts” and isn’t that a wonderfully joyful and jubilant way to describe any heart?

This one is particularly heavy and solid, smooth to the touch — could it be basalt?

Of course this love heart came home with me to be added to my growing collection. Never forget that love is all around.

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

Whether it’s merely an indication of beaches and oceans and erosion, or a message from the universe, it always makes me happy.

💖

Mother’s Day: BoyMom Edition

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All I ever wanted to be was a boymom and I got my wish with the original Angel Boy.

Happy Mother’s Day!

BEST BOYMOM QUOTE EVER: “If all the little boys in the world were lined up and I had to just pick only one, I’d choose you… every time.” (Barbra Streisand to Seth Rogan in the film Guilt Trip.)

This is a funny story and all you’ll ever need to know about my AB:

Since his life threatening medical issue and subsequent (emergency) major abdominal surgery for a ruptured Meckel’s Diverticulum a few years ago, he needs to be careful about his diet for the rest of his life, mainly never popcorn, but other foods can irritate the anastomosis repair, too, which he learned by trial and error.

He recovered better than expected from the surgery except for THAT little issue.

Recently, I suggested (not nagged) that he might benefit from regularly taking probiotics to normalize his intestinal flora and fauna, and I made sure he took them every day while we were together.

How do I do that? I chose the right time, like when he was involved in editing his new book or grading papers. That’s when I know he’s REALLY the absentminded professor and won’t pay any attention to me. I then hand him the probiotic capsules with a freshly made smoothie and he downs them without argument or question. However, it’s only a delayed reaction because fifteen minutes later, he’ll ask me what it was that I gave him but then it’s too late to refuse. HAHAHAHA. #momhack

I sent him a photo of the supplements he WILLINGLY swallowed so he could take them all the time and heard nothing about it or a couple weeks…until yesterday when he texted me and I admit it took me a second or two to figure out he was being his usual snarky, facetious self:

Apparently when it becomes HIS idea, it’s worth doing. Hmmm. Whatever works, right? After all these years, I finally figured out that he likes to think about things for a while before he makes a decision, so I sent him a photo of the type of magnesium and D3 gummies I take along with this text:

That’s my Angel Boy. Stubborn child, but no matter what, he’ll forever be my heart.

Nowadays I’m even luckier to be grandma of those two vibrant Angel Kids who started calling me “Gramps” for absolutely no reason at all, but it makes me chuckle.

When I asked them, “Why do you call me Gramps?”, they laughed hysterically, so I guess that’s who I am now.

There will never be a greater joy than being loved by those guys, that’s for sure. That’s what life is all about.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms and grandmas from Gramps!

FYI: Great article to explain emergency surgery for Meckel’s Diverticulum https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC2533303/

POGs Revival!

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Lately it seems that I see POGs popping up everywhere on social media.

Do you remember them?

For a brief, crazy intense moment in the ’90s, POGs and slammers were everywhere. If you grew up during that era, you might remember collecting the colorful cardboard discs, the thrill of slamming your favorite POG stack, and swapping the ones you didn’t want with friends on the playground.

During that frenzied time, I was involved in a business that not only produced POGs (milkcaps) as business promotional giveaways but created a line of them called The Safe Neighborhood Club, complete with an inserted educational booklet. Some of these designs were included in books about POGs.

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

For a time, POGS were even outlawed in a few school districts, that’s how popular they were.

The story of POGs began in Hawaii, where children used caps from Haleakala Dairy’s POG juice (passionfruit-orange-guava) to play a simple flipping game.

Alan Rypinski bought the POG trademark in 1993 and transformed it into a global brand. With the World POG Federation at the helm, POGs exploded into toy aisles and schoolyards, becoming an integral part of ’90s culture. POGman, the game’s cartoon mascot, became as recognizable as the discs themselves. He made millions during the craze but was out of the game when the bubble burst.

By 1997, the POG market had imploded. Oversaturation, school bans, and changing fads pushed the once-beloved game into obscurity. The discs that once sparked heated debates and trades among kids now sat forgotten.

Now, nearly three decades later, whispers of a POG revival are surfacing. Can a nostalgia-driven resurgence bring this playground staple back into the mainstream?

Why Revive POGs Now?

I can’t explain it, but POGs definitely ARE making a comeback, not just as a nostalgic collectible but also with a digital component and a focus on both physical and digital gaming. 

The World Pog Federation launched new physical sets and online games to engage a new generation of players. They are also exploring partnerships and collaborations to expand the POG brand. 

I’ll have to dig around in the garage ‘cos I know I still have a massive collection stored in binders and I can’t wait to show them to the Angels. Maybe they could start it up again at their school; wouldn’t that be awesome?

Further reading:
–Here’s a link to a cool article written just last month about the POG revival:
https://www.belloflostsouls.net/2025/04/dig-up-that-slammer-this-week-were-talking-pogs.html
–Another post from Hawaii: https://www.lanaitoday.com/news/another-chance-to-scoop

Oceanside Rock Garden

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 This sounds like so much fun! I guess it’s where you can find me when Mom and Dad are here and I’m with the Angel Kids while they’re out surfing.

Oceanside Harbor staff created a Rock Garden for free family fun. It’s located in the far northeast area of the Harbor near the “A” Dock.

All are welcome to leave a painted rock, take one home to create rock art, or work on one at the nearby picnic table to leave with the others. Spread positivity! Kids can stack rocks, too–make a cairn for others to admire.

(I’m not sure who took this photo because someone shared it with me, but credit to whoever it was.)