Tag Archives: Family

On A Dark Desert(ed) Highway

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Photo by Mario Cuadros on Pexels.com

This all happened quite a while ago, but I realized I hadn’t shared it, so here’s the scary story of my almost brush with death; a cautionary tale of the time I might have starred in a Dateline episode.

I had to be somewhere very early, too early to inconvenience anyone by asking for a ride, so I called a car service. I’ll be vague about which one, but it’s one of the big guys.

It was dark; I waited outside, the driver was on time. The first thing I noticed (red flag number one) is that the car stopped and he started it up again. I thought maybe he was saving gas, so didn’t really think too much about it. We had a few stop signs on the way to the freeway and the engine stalled at every one of them and had to be started back up. (red flag number two). I was a bit concerned and that’s probably when I should have told him to turn around and found another form of transportation but I didn’t.

The driver spoke no English. I mean, ZERO. I managed to learn that he was from Colombia. I could see the Google map on his phone was in Spanish. I spoke a bit of Spanish so we were able to sort of communicate.

Finally on the freeway, his car was going VERY SLOW, well under the speed limit. The engine hadn’t stalled again, though. (another red flag.)

The driver wore very thick glasses and seemed to have a difficult time seeing the road as he was slightly weaving out of his lane. It’s a good thing that it was so early with not many cars on the road. I don’t think he was drunk; I think he couldn’t SEE the road. (red flag!)

The headlights also seemed to be malfunctioning; he’d turn them off and on and the car would sort of slow down and speed up, which was reallyreally freaking me out.

I was beginning to get a little more panicky every second, and even more so when, for some reason, he took the wrong exit on the freeway. We were in a rural area that was heavily wooded- no houses, no stores; nothing.

The very worst case scenarios were running through my head at warp speed. We were on a frontage road with no lights and no people. I thought there was a good possibility that I was going to be the victim of a horrible crime, I really did.

If the worst happened, no one would find me out in the middle of nowhere on a dark, deserted highway. I was petrified, thinking of all the horror stories I had heard about getting in cars with strangers.

Loudly, I commanded, “HEY! This is the wrong exit. GET BACK ON THE FREEWAY NOW!”

I had my hand on the door and 911 ready to be called on my phone. I was ready to bolt and run. I was terrified.

For a brief moment that seemed to last for days, he hesitated, and then, thankfully, turned around. We got back on the freeway, and at which point he was completely lost. I had to direct him the rest of the way to my ultimate destination but not before his car stalled AGAIN at the final stoplight.

I leapt out of his car while it was still slightly moving and RAN into the building. It took forever for my heart rate to subside and the adrenaline to stop pouring through my body. I was as shaky as the time I got an EpiPen for a bee sting. I had to force myself to breathe and slowly regained my calm.

There were so many red flags 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩 that I ignored. Never again!

Friends have asked me if I reported the driver. I thought about it, but I didn’t. Although it was scary, nothing bad actually happened. I was so grateful to be alive and unharmed that I wanted to forget all about it. However, I don’t think his vehicle was going to last much longer, so maybe he’ll figure out that driving people around isn’t the right career choice.

The lesson is to listen to your gut in all life circumstances. If something doesn’t feel right, it most likely is a warning that should be heeded.

I am 1000% grateful that the universe and all the angels once again protected me from harm.

Have you ever experienced a similar scary event?

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/

In Limbo

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The days between Christmas and the new year are suspended in amber; a week of feeling in limbo — at least for me.

The frenzy leading up to Christmas that started at Halloween and progressed to Thanksgiving and finally to December 25 is a mess of cooking and baking and cleaning — and now it’s over, along with the twenty-four hour Christmas music on the radio.

It’s so so quiet outside, like a day during the pandemic.

It’s a great time to shop the after holiday sales, but I have enough wrapping paper and Christmas cards and decorations to last until the next century, so I’m not all that excited about the 75% off prices…although I DO love a bargain.

But — we’re not quite done because the end of the year is only a few days away and that occasion is supposed to be memorialized by some sort of celebration, whether you choose to go to a ball or a party or stay home by the fire with a glass of champagne and try to stay awake until midnight.

And then it’s over — but not until the idiots shoot guns in the air and set off more fireworks that scare all the animals.

I’m not sure I’d call this feeling a full fledged depression, but there’s a term that describes it pretty well… Post Holiday Blues. It sounds like it should be the title of a song, right? PHB refers to the letdown we might feel after all the excitement and anticipation leading up to the holidays.

I hope Santa brought you everything you asked for and enjoy this week in limbo, waiting for 2025.

Surfing and Cartwheeling

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Do you remember your firsts?

I do. I remember my first ballet class, my first pair of pointe shoes, my first ski trip along with my best ride down Stump Alley at Mammoth, and even my first bra, lolz

Not having grown up on the west coast, I didn’t have a connection to the ocean until high school.

I recall my first time on a surfboard…it did NOT go well, and I almost broke my nose. This was not the sport for me. Decades later, I gave it another try. Once again, it didn’t go well. I ended up rolling and rolling under some giant NOT BEGINNER waves, and the next day I was covered in the ugliest bruises. That was IT for me.

Angel Girl takes gymnastics and was obsessed with cartwheels. Tenacious girl that she is, she tried and practiced and kept at it until the mechanics of a cartwheel finally clicked and she perfected it. “Watch me, Grandma!” “See, I can do it now!”

What an amazing sense of accomplishment and mastery of a difficult skill. “Great job, girl!”

Even though we live so close to the ocean, the original Angel Boy didn’t really like to surf, mainly because without his glasses, he can’t see a thing, and it was a scary endeavor unless he had a buddy with him. He’d boogie board a lot, but never really got into surfing until he started wearing contacts.

Now he has a quiver of boards here and at his house, too.

To encourage AB 2.0, he’s been taken along for (gentle) rides on a surfboard since he was about a year old.

This past weekend, it finally clicked for him, too. He stood up and surfed his first legit wave!

This is a bad photo because I took it from the video, but I can feel T’s sense of pride. It didn’t matter that it was a small wave: HE DID IT, and OMG, he’s a carbon copy of his dad.

Predictably, you couldn’t get him out of the water after that. He’s completely hooked, and now Dad has a lifelong surfing buddy. As an aside, is there anything cuter than a little grom in a wetsuit?

I hope they never forget these significant firsts, and since we have video of all of it, I can imagine they’ll show their own children these amazing accomplishments.

Grandma pride RULES!

Your Little Boy

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“Do you know what YOUR LITTLE BOY did?”

“Grandma, I need to tell you about YOUR LITTLE BOY!”

It never fails to make me laugh when I hear both Angels refer to their dad that way.

It started a long time ago when I explained to them that not only was I their grandma, but that their dad was my little boy and he’ll ALWAYS be my little boy.

Ever since, and especially when they have some juicy gossip OR a complaint, he’s referred to as “your little boy”.

When he rode his skateboard sans helmet which is absolutely DUMB, Angel Boy 2.0 would call me and tattle on him. When he fell off his surfboard, I was told about it. When he ran through a red light, yup, I had a phone call.

“Grandma, you will not BELIEVE what your little boy did!”

They extract a great deal of enjoyment when I scold their dad about his small crimes and misdemeanors; I’m a constant source of entertainment: “DAD, GRANDMA WANTS TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOR!”

Mom isn’t exempt either, but MY little boy bears the brunt of the scandalous chat.

This time was a bit different. AB is now in third grade and his sister will start kindergarten at the same school. Usually Dad walked him as it’s only a couple blocks away and Mom stayed with the baby, now not a baby. (This is a cool deja vu moment for both Dad and me, because HIS elementary school was also in walking distance, and it was a great time to chat and walk there every day.)

I got the phone call….“Do you know what your little boy is going to do when school starts?“

I literally had no idea.

“Because I like to get to school early – Grandma, you know I don’t like to be late — and you know how Dad and I race there every day and sometimes I win –and C can’t EVER wake up, YOUR LITTLE BOY is going to run me to school first, come home, and then bring C. Isn’t that funny?”

“Well, T, why don’t you just wait until your sister is ready and Dad will only have to make one trip?”

“OMG Grandma, you KNOW that won’t work! We have to leave at exactly the right time.”

The backstory is that Angel Boy 2.0 has always been an early riser like Dad (and me), but his sister could sleep all night and most of the day. Sometimes, we still check on her to make sure she’s breathing, but boyohboy can that girl SLEEP.

Her pre-school started at 9:15 and it was often a struggle to get her there on time. Kindergarten starts at 7:55 a.m. so she’s going to have to go to bed extra early to train for a new sleep schedule. There will no longer be an option to let her skip a day or two or come in a couple hours late.

The best part of this story is how much Angel Boy loves school. He can’t wait to get there and always wants to stay after to play with friends.

His dad loved to learn, too, and still does.

It’s markedly different than my experience, that’s for sure. I didn’t like school and couldn’t wait to get home. The only happy part of it for me was the night before when I chose whatever pretty dress I would wear the next day. There were always matching socks and ribbons for my hair.

Being a fashionista is a life long pursuit and I can’t wait to see what the kids wear for their first day.

MY LITTLE BOY had his own sense of style…

The original Angel Boy with Stella Rondo

Hearts and Sons

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My son is the classic dictionary definition of an absent minded professor (which he is). His beautiful brain has multiple trains of thought all speeding along at the same time, so sometimes, day-to-day mundane tasks fall by the wayside.

It was early morning and he had returned from a dawn patrol surf sesh. We were having a lively “discussion” about where to put his surfboard…”Mom, Mom, I’m going to leave it right here, don’t worry. I’m going to surf later, too.”

Whenever he says “don’t worry”, there’s an eighty to one hundred percent chance that it’s something I SHOULD worry about. I learned that after forty-three years of being his mom.

I told him I’d prefer it if he took the extra few minutes to put it away in the garage where it belongs.

This discussion took place as we’re standing in the driveway. It could have been today or a couple decades ago; some things never change!

We were at an impasse. Hands on my hips, I stubbornly stuck to my position that the surfboard needed to go back where it belongs or I would end up trying to lift up a longboard that’s twice my size. Something would break; either the board or me.

Finally, I said, “Look how much time you’re wasting. If you had simply put it up instead of trying to convince me to allow you to leave the surfboard in the way, you’d already be in the house eating your breakfast burrito!”

Well, that’s the kind of logic that works with him. He finally put his board away. Like I told him his entire life, he should take his arguing and debating skills and become a lawyer like his grandfather.

As we wrapped up a twenty minute negotiation, I looked down and found this perfectly formed heart leaf. I took a picture, picked it up, brought it in the house, and I’m looking for a suitable frame while my (annoying) child inhales his breakfast.

It’s all about love. It always has been, and always will be. That child IS my heart, whether he’s being annoying or not.

The Games People Play

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Joy was my primary emotion when Angel Boy 2.0 brought out the Scrabble board and wanted to learn how to play.

As soon as he grasped the basic concept, he became a fierce competitor. When his Dad wanted to create teams — my two Angel Boys– son and grandson — against ME, I knew I was doomed to never again win.

This is deja vu, history repeating itself in real time. I have never EVER won a game of Scrabble with my brilliant child. At this point I don’t even try because it’s futile.

This was only the second game we played. AB 2.0 was proud of MAX with no help from Dad, and because it was a double word score, he caught on really fast to the excitement of strategic placement.

When I play games, I do so for the joy of being together; when THEY play, their goal is to win.

We are not the same.

It’s a similar situation with Monopoly. I’m no fun to play with. This is a game where their Mom excels. I want to buy hotels and apartments to provide a home for the unsheltered, while everyone else tries to acquire money and real estate to build an empire.

We are not the same.

March 8 Isn’t Only About International Women’s Day…

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Wishing a very happy International Woman’s Day to all strong, intelligent, talented, and simply wonderful women of this world!

Today is International Women’s Day, but really, EVERY DAY should be a day to celebrate women, to encourage a world where difference is valued and celebrated with all the ways we can forge women’s equality. 

IWD began in New York City on March 8, 1857 when female textile workers marched in protest of unfair working conditions and unequal rights for women. It was one of the first organized strikes by working women, during which they called for a shorter work day and decent wages.

For me, even more important than a single day set aside to commemorate women, March 8 is the day to rejoice in the birth of Angel Boy 2.0 on his eighth solar return.

I don’t know how it happened, but that child I love with all my heart is eight years old today! How is that even possible?

I still think of him as he was learning to walk…

and now running as fast as he can.

He’s an awesome soccer player; obsessed with Minecraft, (no longer Ninjago or even Pokemon), so his presents reflected that: a giant Minecraft Lego set, Minecraft underwear, a Minecraft joke book, and as many Minecraft t-shirts as I could find, all wrapped up in a Minecraft bag with a musical Minecraft birthday card. He doesn’t have any Minecraft video games, I’m happy to report.

Happy eight years around the sun, AB 2.0!

How Do YOU Hygge? | Word of the Day

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Embrace your “hygge” (pronounced hoo-ga).

This word has been showing up everywhere so I needed to discover what’s it all about.

Hygge is a Danish word and concept that means creating a warm atmosphere and the enjoyment of simple pleasures..

The warm glow of candlelight is hygge; a mug of ginger tea is hygge; fresh sheets still warm out of the dryer is hygge.

It means creating a world of restorative self care and well-being, especially being outdoors in nature, to deeply feel the beauty of a sunset, not to merely look, but to see.

For me, spending time with the Angels is the ultimate hygge, especially if we’re at the beach or when we bake or read together, or when I’m lucky enough to spot a dolphin or a whale. Or a coyote.

It also means mindful appreciation of cozy socks when it’s cold.

Right now hygge is watching the torrential rain through the window; grateful for being indoors, warm and dry.

A Watershed Event

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Not too long ago, the Angel Kids’ parents went to a social function. They weren’t too happy about Mom and Dad leaving because they rarely do, but as soon as the door closed, everything was OK ‘cos Grandma was there.

The kids have a solid bedtime routine: bath, night snack, brush teeth, read, and sleep. After their baths and a bowl of yogurt and applesauce, teeth were brushed and we snuggled together for reading time, my favorite part.

We began with a book for Angel Girl about a ballerina who loves to wear sparkly tiaras. I was peppered with questions and comments, “You love to wear a tiara, don’t you, Grandma!” “I have a sparkly tiara, too.” After her book, she turned on her side, clutching her stuffed unicorn, ready to drift off to sleep.

When it was time to read to Angel Boy, Dad had kindly left me with a chapter book they were halfway through, and I planned to read to the lovely child who was curled up against me.

I wasn’t prepared for what came next…and I can genuinely say that it was one of the happiest moments of my entire life…

“Hey, Grandma, how about if I read to YOU this time instead of YOU reading to ME?”

That had NEVER happened before. He’s gifted in math, but reading was sometimes frustrating for him, totally unlike his dad, who was an early and brilliant reader. T tested at grade level in school, but it wasn’t with the joy that reading brings to our lives. I always told him that reading was the gateway to the world. In my opinion, reading is EVERYTHING.

So of course I said that would be the most wonderful idea EVER in the history of wonderful ideas.

He read four chapters of his book while I watched; eagle-eyed, to observe (scrutinize) his reading prowess as a second grader, and his ability to successfully sound out words that weren’t familiar. The best part was that he didn’t want to stop reading; he wanted to keep going, but he was so tired, he agreed to finish the book the next day.

I was absolutely blown away, not only by his skills, but the way he read with humor and expression.

“Did you like that, Grandma? I knew you would because you love reading so much.”

“T, I am so incredibly proud of you! C is too, and we both loved to hear you read. How did it make you feel to read to US?”

“Grandma, I was reading and the words were like, just in my head as I saw them, and I couldn’t believe it, they came out so fast!”

At that moment, I think I almost squeezed the very life out of him, and I was more than grateful to be able to experience his “lightbulb” moment where everything clicked into place.

“T, that is what’s called REAL READING! I told you it would happen soon, where words you see instantly translate from your eyes to your brain — and you totally GOT IT!”

“I wanted to make you happy, Grandma.”

And he did. That was an understatement!

T whispered, “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you too, so, so much. See you in the morning for buckwheat pancakes!” I whispered back to him.

For me, this definitely qualifies as a memorable, momentous watershed event.

I feel like I’m the luckiest grandma in the whole world.