I spent this morning’s commute trying to explain to my sons the concept of death. Continue reading
Tag Archives: grandma
They say age ain’t nothing but a number. But let’s face it – 60’s a pretty big number.
But I can’t imagine a world without my mom in it. Welcome to middle age mom. Here’s to another 60 years of people wanting to be you. And 60 reasons why. Continue reading
Today is Uncle Paul’s 29th birthday. It should be G.G’s 87th. I miss her. And I miss our little talks. Continue reading
To begin with, the women in my gene pool aren’t exactly what you’d call “night owls.” AuntJ looked like she’d just spent a month with colicky infants when we met at the airport – at the midnight witching hour of 10 p.m. (Granted, that is my bedtime too.) Continue reading
Cameras and paparazzi at the ready – my grandmother met the muppets this weekend.
GrammaJ and G.G. (short for Great Grandma) arrived on Friday night after a much-delayed flight. Sadly, a morning mechanical issue somewhere in Baltimore prevented G.G. from getting to meet the muppets on Friday. They were fast asleep when we got home.
Saturday morning I awoke to rumblings in the nursery. With a distinct lack of lightening quick reflexes, I rolled over in bed and willed my eyes to open – the boys weren’t screaming yet, so I still had hope for five more minutes. (Won’t they think this story is funny when they’re whining “just five more minutes Mom…” as I try to wake them up for school?) As I slowly entered a slightly more conscious state-of-being, it occurred to me that I could comprehend the nursery mumbles.
I wandered into the boys’ room and found G.G. snuggling with Search as the two rocked back and forth in the glider. They were having quite a conversation – apparently Search had a lot of stories to share. G.G. looked up at me and smiled, “I just couldn’t wait one more minute to meet the honies.”
I’m pretty sure there is some sort of physiological change that occurs when one becomes a grandmother. The brain matter alters and pheromones morph into a baby-soothing drug. Now, much like twins are double the trouble, a great-grandma is twice as nice. Both Search and Destroy spent the entire weekend cooing, chatting and laughing.
Both G.G. and GrammaJ commented that our living room was distinctly beginning to take on the feel of a Toys R Us store. I have a friend who is determined not to let her house turn over to the kids – I have failed miserable at this task. The muppets have all kinds of gizmos and gadgets, special seats and swings. GrammaJ was fascinated with the Bumbo chair.
A Bumbo chair is a foam seat that is designed to support tiny babies and allow them to sit upright, before they can sit on their own. Destroy does not like this contraption. He a) does not like to sit and b) doesn’t really fit. Pudge’s tummy gets in the way of the support so he ends up leaning back awkwardly and screaming to get out. G.G. and I could not stop laughing at GrammaJ’s attempts to convince Destroy to sit in his swanky little seat.
He would much rather stand. When he is lifted over the chair, instead of bending his chubbly little legs, he will arch his back – throwing his head as far back as he can – and then straighten himself out as stiff as a board. So much for cooperation…
So G.G. picked up the cranky muppet, who immediately cuddled up in her lap, eyes wide open as though expecting a story. G.G. and GrammaJ? There was little to no chance of a nap. GrammaJ noted that I was never a great napper – there were things to be done and adventures to be had! G.G. then pointed out that GrammaJ was a quick kid to give up her morning nap as well. And that’s when we learned about the perfume.
Shockingly, this is a family story I had never heard before. This was the muppets first Grandma Winnie story, and it was such a treat to have it involve the mischief makings of my mother.
GrammaJ was about three. G.G. put her down for her morning nap – since she was a big kid, she was dozing on G.G.’s bed. Closing the door gently behind her, G.G. left her sleeping little angel to explore dreamland and went about some of her daily chores.
A while later, G.G. returned to her room. GrammaJ was no longer on the bed. G.G. scanned the room to find Gramma J perched atop the dresser. She looked positively pleased with herself – having scaled the drawers to reach her conquest: mom’s perfume.
She smelled fantastic. G.G. noticed her perfume bottle was lying on its side, with a bit of the contents dripping out onto the wood finish. GrammaJ grinned. “Look at what I have accomplished!” her smile seemed to say. She had drunk the perfume.
G.G. immediately called the doctor. “Well, it’s mostly alcohol. She’s probably just a bit tipsy. But I bet she smells nice.”
I have a strong suspicion that this same scenario would play out very different for this generation. I don’t foresee myself being nearly calm enough to chuckle about an inebriated babe – poison control and emergencies rooms would be in their future.
My weekend with the grandmas was far too short. But I am so excited that the muppets finally got to meet their great-grandmother (and Search’s namesake). It was certainly a fun-filled celebratory weekend, which is why I’ve been slightly MIA for the past several days. I will post pictures and share more of the adventures tomorrow.
As I close out the final evening of my twenties, it makes me smile to feel like a kid again listening to Grandma’s stories. Tomorrow, it’s a new decade – my third.