Tag Archives: grandchildren

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!

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.

Treasures or Trash?

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“Grandmama, can I have this?”

We’ve all heard the proverb, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” and I’m proud to say my DNA of hoarding and obsession for shiny baubles is alive and well and thriving in this next generation.

When they find something around here that they want/need, these Angel Kids call me Grandmama. I love that extra syllable. I AM a mom and a grandma, so it works.

They like to inspect every room like a couple of CSI forensic detectives, searching for whatever might strike their fancy among my little treasures, along with an extraordinary ability to suss out anything new that’s been added since their last visit, like my penguin box.

I especially like that they ASK and don’t simply TAKE. It really makes all the difference.

“Grandmama, can I have this sparkly box?”
“Yes.”
“I want one too, can I have THIS one?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have this Hello Kitty bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have these pearls?”
“Yes.”
(We’re not talking about my real pearls, just a couple strands of fake ones and some pearls used in jewelry making.)

At some point in the day, they opened a closet and discovered my crafty area with shelves of boxes and drawers full of polished rocks and seashells and gems and beach glass and sparkly beads.

“Grandmama, can we have some?”
“Yes.”

Between the two of them, there was a wild feeding frenzy. They sat on the floor, their individual piles of loot growing and growing.

“OMG, LOOK AT THE GEMS!”
“Can I have the blue ones?”
“Can I have the green ones?”

“Look you guys, I’ll find containers for each of you and yes, you can take what you want. All I ask is that you work together and don’t argue about who takes what. Compromise and share. Do we have a deal?”

OK, Grandmama, we can do that. Even the big pearls?

“Yes, even those.”

“DAD, GRANDMAMA SAID WE CAN BRING ALL OF THE TREASURES HOME!”

As happy as that makes those Angel Kids, I wonder if they have any idea at all how happy it makes ME to be able to make THEM deliriously happy.

A total win-win. DNA RULES!

Brutal Honesty

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“Grandma, what’s THIS?”

Angel Girl asks the question as she squeezes the back of my upper arm.

“Is that FAT?”

“Why is your arm so FAT right there?”

“Hey, T, come see Grandma’s FAT!”

That’s a call to action no big brother could resist. Angel Boy runs in, takes a hunk of the back of my upper arm and confirms his sister’s diagnosis.

“That’s a lot of fat, Grandma!”

I hear the unmistakeable sound of the original Angel Boy snickering in the other room. I bet it’s all deja vu for him as he must recall torturing me the same way.

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

I’m shaking my head; the apple definitely doesn’t fall far from the tree, not with these guys.

“Oh jeez, it’s SKIN, girl. Everyone has SKIN.”

She lifts her own perfectly formed and toned upper arm to show me. “I don’t. My arm doesn’t look like that.”

Mom chimes in, “Wait until you’re older. Come here and help me with breakfast. Let Grandma finish dressing!”

Her brother lifts his wiry arm (built just like his dad)… “Not me either, Grandma. See MY arm?”

I query the other grownups, “Where did she learn all this fat shaming? Sheesh, I thought nowadays children learned to be inclusive and accepting of all of our differences. What’s up with this?”

While I’m speaking, Angel Girl is following me around, squeezing my arms and laughing hysterically. I can’t help it, now I’m laughing, too–because, at the end of the day, it’s just funny. She’s always been hyperfocused and hypercritical of my each and every detail –from my hair to my shoes, and this is no different.

“Jeez Louise, girl, goodness gracious sakes alive, you’re killing me.”

She’s not being rude, if that’s your conclusion–she would never intend to hurt my feelings – it’s simply a case of speaking her truth. I’m one thousand percent sure that she would naturally censor herself with her pre-K classmates, but I’m different, and it’s OK to practice life skills on me.

I’m her pet project, the Little Grandma, with apparently endless patience.

Both of the Angel Kids are fascinated by my diminutive size…

“My hands are almost as big as yours, Grandma!” (This is a continual hand-to-hand ritual measurement every time we see each other to gauge how much they’ve grown.)
“Look, I can wear your shoes now!”
“Can I have your Hello Kitty shirt, Grandma! It fits ME!”
“Why are you so small?”
“Stand still! I am LITERALLY almost as tall as you are!”
And that’s true. I’m five feet and that 7.5 year-old truly is nearly my size.

That’s the time I tell them that the best presents come in small packages, but since that’s not their life experience, they shake their heads and laugh.

Thanks to Angel Girl’s eagle eyes, I have to silently agree that I need to focus more work on my triceps.

Brutal honesty. BRUTAL. Brutally honest.

The Joy of Karma

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There is truly no greater joy than to have my sweet yet scarily precocious Angels in their car seats as we drive down to the beach, windows down, all of us belting out Karma by Taylor Swift.

They pay no attention to the fact that I can’t carry a tune; we’re nodding our heads and singing along with Apple music. “Play it again, Grandma!”

“Karma is my boyfriend.”

“I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn’t know what I mean…”
(Picture us mimic sweeping with our hands.)

“Karma is a cat…Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me.”

“Me and karma are like THAT.”

“Karma takes all my friends to the summit.”

“Karma’s gonna track you down Step by step from town to town.”

Like Taylor changed the lyrics to her bf’s name, I also change the words in this line…

“Karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me.”

to

“Karma is my two favorite kids coming straight home to me.”

Time spent with these Angel Kids is a neverending tapestry of shared joyful memories, including singing with tone deaf Grandma.

“Play it again, Grandma!” And I did.

Shades of Gratitude in Monochrome

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Late afternoon on a beautiful day after Thanksgiving, these are my favorite humans standing in the sun-sparkled ocean.

No filters or editing.
#Monochrome-Madness

Reading is EVERYTHING

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“A child who reads will be an adult who thinks.” Unknown

I always have a book with me, my son always has books with him, and I always have books in the car.

Any time I hear, “I’m bored”, my response is “go read a book.” I said this even before he could actually READ, to encourage the good habit.

Later, I’d tell him to pick out all the sight words he’s learned; it, he, she, the, but…and then we built on those skills by sounding out other words phonetically.

I love functional reading too, and often pretend (lie) that I don’t have my glasses on so I can’t see a recipe or directions and ask him to help me out. He takes the bait every single time and that makes me very happy. To be completely accurate, almost every time. There is that one time he brought my reading glasses to me and that kinda sorta called my bluff, but I simply thanked him for finding them and found a better hiding place next time.

Even his Pokemon cards spark reading skills. “I can read this, Grandma” and I honestly didn’t believe him (there were some big words). Of course I didn’t reveal my skepticism and when he read the back of the cards, truly read them, I gave him a giant hug.

Recently, driving home from the airport with everyone in the car, we heard Angel Boy’s voice in the back seat. He had picked up one of the books I leave on the seat and was reading to his sister.

We all looked at each other in wonderment because this hadn’t happened before. Angel Girl was intently listening to the story and we were speechless with the joy of it, as we’re all big readers who know the importance of learning to read.

When the book was finished, we praised his ability and kindness toward his sister, who asked for the story to be read to her again. And he did. It was a win-win for both of them. And us.

Reading is everything.

“Reading is the gateway for children that makes all other learning possible.” – Barack Obama

Blink! Is it Magic? 🪄

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At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.

Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”

It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”

I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”

He blinked and looked at me.

I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”

He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)

“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”

He laughed and I did, too.

It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.

“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”

It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.

Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”

“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”

She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.

“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.

No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.

It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄

The Hug Store Is ALWAYS Open

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Out of the mouths of, well, not babes exactly, but out of the mouth of my Angel Boy second grader.

A long time ago, even before there was an Angel Girl, AB and I would hug when we first saw each other and then at various times throughout the day and before bed.

I always asked first, “can I have a hug?” or “would you like a hug” because of course it’s all about body autonomy and if he didn’t feel like being touched, it’s his right to say no. That’s a good lesson for all of us, right?

Then he started to say, “I need a Grandma hug” and my arms would open wide.

When Angel Girl came into the world, she would stretch out HER arms and say, “Hug” and who could ever say no to that? Definitely not me.

Now they both jump into my arms and just about knock me over. I tell them I have two arms so there’s plenty of love for both of them. Yes, there’s a bit of sibling rivalry because AB had me all to himself for almost four years and sharing his grandma has caused some angst. Actually, learning to share anything is an ongoing lesson for him…

Recently, Angel Boy has become a bit more thoughtful about what it means to be his grandma.

He told his sister, “With Grandma, the hug store is always open. Right, Grandma?”

I hugged them both and said, “That’s a really cool way to describe it and you’re one thousand percent correct. Best of all, it doesn’t cost a single penny. My hug store is always open, night or day, 365 days a year.”

After that beautiful moment, I told him we needed to write a story about The Hug Store, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.

There’s an endless ocean of love with these two angel kids. ❤️

Candyland Marathon

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It was a serious deja vu moment for us; me and Angel Boy 2.0 playing endless games of Candyland in the exact same location that MY mom used to play endless games of Candyland with the original Angel Boy.

They played so often — marathon sessions — that the first game pieces wore out and we had to buy a new one. I’m not sure what the actual appeal is of Candyland, as it’s such a simple concept with no reading involved, but it’s incredibly mindful it its simplicity. Maybe that’s the key to brilliance.

After a very early breakfast of fresh pineapple and buckwheat pancakes, we went downstairs to play on the table where we kept the board set up in anticipation of laughter and great conversation.

In the afternoon, we hung out at Dad’s former elementary school playground and looked in all the classrooms that he attended during his six years there. It was a surreal and very happy rush of memories for us, watching his own child on the very same monkey bars he used to climb.

Later, at the end of the day, freshly bathed and having eaten a night snack of applesauce and yogurt, it was back downstairs for the final game before bed.

These are the building blocks of joyful shared experiences that create a lifelong tapestry of love that spans generations.

This is the kind of legacy I’m grateful to be able to share with these precious Angel Kids.