Wet Velvet

I read this really great blog post recently and I just really agreed with the mom.

Don't Carpe Diem

www.huffingtonpost.com

Parenting is hard and yet we keep doing it. It is a difficult climb that you look back on with both frustration, failure, and humiliation and joy, pride, and hilarity. Even as a Grandma, I am still climbing that mountain. And because of that I feel I can share this story.

It's scary and messy, and after a couple weeks even a little funny. But like all the other spikey outcroppings you have to get over on your way up the mountain, you just keep going.

It's about my cute granddaughter, Kelly. I LOVE HER. She is absolutely adorable. And we are the best of friends. We like the same toys and scary movies. I love her sparkly shoes and her tutus and wish I could find them in my size.

She's quirky!

Dramatic!

Imaginative!

Helpful!

She's 3.

I left her alone in the living room, watching a movie on the iPad and playing

with her own toys. I didn't think I had left her there long when she came to me saying, "I have just gotten marker all over me." She had marker on her arms and ankles, feet, and toes.

I jumped up and ran into the living room. This is what I found:

I just stood there without a clue as to what to do. I called for help. Rich and Harry came running. I was crying a little. This sofa belonged to a great aunt of my father's and was given to my parents and then to me. I was really glad my mom was not here to see it. (I felt a little like the day my 2yr old daughter had peed in a velvet chair at my mom's.) Anyway...

I wished I'd just flipped the cushions and left it. But maybe out of fear of my mother, I felt I had to try to clean it up. Do you know what happens when velvet gets wet?

(By the way- do you see the little happy face in the corner?)

I wasn't as worried about my iPad. I'd had one of those expensive shields put on it- thank goodness! It took a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (what an amazing invention) but I got it clean.

Harry took Kelly upstairs to give her a bath. She went calmly and enjoyed splashing Harry as he scrubbed her clean. I congratulate myself for not screaming at her or spanking her- 2 things I'm sure I did often as a young mom. (See? Experience is a good thing.)

I spent a night really upset. And old wet velvet is SMELLY!

Kelly stayed with Sissy (Sandi) the next day. And you know what? I missed her. A lot.

The next day Kelly came running in with the cutest "I'm sorry" card (colored with markers of course).

And the best "I'm sorry" present.

I climbed over that spike on the mountain and kept going, hugging, tickling, and loving Baby Kelly all the way!

P.S. On Wednesday we went out and bought Color Wonder markers and paper.

Nativity

Luke 2:40
40 And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon him.

As I watched my grandchildren running wildly through the house during our annual Christmas pajama party, I sat (amongst the Mr. Potato Head parts and Lala Loopsey dolls) and wondered how Mary and Joseph felt when Jesus was three. OK, really I was wondering where Mr. Potato Head’s nose went (hopefully not into Roko’s mouth) and how come the three years olds never step on Hot Wheels when my feet are totally bruised from them. But I have been thinking about Jesus as a toddler all season long.

Mary and Joseph knew they were raising the Son of God. So what was it like for them? Were they more diligent in telling him stories from the scriptures? Were they more careful not to let him get hurt? Did they worry they weren’t feeding him the best foods or keeping him warm enough? In other words were they like any other parents?


Did they marvel at his smiles and giggles?


Did they watch him run with his cousins and hope he didn’t fall and get hurt or put a hole in the wall?


Did they teach him to play nice with everyone even girls and even if they’re having a tea party?


Did they build forts with him and snuggle him close?

The scriptures don’t tell us what He was like as a toddler except for that one verse in Luke. But I’m sure He was sweet and kind and polite and fun. Just like my grandchildren.

Now, if I could just find Mr. Potato Head’s nose.

I AM the GRAMMA!

My patriarchal blessing is kind of boring. It just says the normal stuff about being a good girl, getting married, stay faithful- ya know nothing huge like "you'll be a great leader" or "you'll succeed as an artist" (which was what I was going for). It really only says one personal thing to me- "Your children will be the brightest jewels in your crown". I was nineteen and this just wasn't the "fortune" I wanted to hear. So I went on my merry way. I eventually got married and started a family, never once thinking that they were in any way "jewels".

Fast forward some 37 years. It's Christmas and everyone is seated at the dining room table. The grandkids are wiggling around. Kelly is expecting her first in March. Before the blessing I stand up to give a toast.

Before I tell you the rest I need to explain that all 4 of my kids live close. Sandy and Dave live in the next town over, Kelly lives about two hours away, and Harry is still at home.

So ... the Toast. I tell them about my patriarchal blessing. I hadn't thought about it in years and never understood what it meant until recently. I tell them that they truly are the jewels of my crown and that they are the reason for my life. Then David's wife, Nancee, announces she's pregnant with their 3rd so I sit down.

There's a saying that I've seen on those boards you hang in your living room: "Each time a child is born, so is a grandmother." I'm one of those grammas. Neither my grandmother nor my mother was one of those grammas so I decided to make a real effort to be THE GRAMMA.

So what makes a great "GRAMMA"?

In my opinion she needs to be round (OK, she doesn't have to be, but I am.)

There are the fun things grammas should be able to do:

• Baking cookies with small children who are messy and drop eggs on the floor is helpful.
• Having toys -no-having lots of toys and preferably in a huge closet or playroom is a big thumbs up.
• Cooking only favorite foods for dinner is popular and having every kind of ice cream flavor for dessert doesn't hurt either.
  
• Riding bikes, practicing ballet, swinging, swimming, playing catch, crashing hot wheels cars are also good skills.
• Sleepovers are a "MUST".

Then there are the serious things grammas should be able to do:

• Saying "NO" without causing a fight is crucial - I'm still trying to master this one.
• Making sure every grandchild feels equally special is so important. I try really hard, but sometimes the parents get jealous.
• Sometimes being "Doctor Gramma" is important: "He'll be fine." "Use Desitin not organic Buttpaste." "It's just a cold." "Eating dirt will not kill her." or "You need to take him to the doctor. I've never seen that before."
• Always having a lap to sit on, a shoulder to lean against, a knee to bounce, a listening ear and a kiss on the cheek are standard equipment.
• If at all possible BABYSIT! If a gramma is at home and her grandchildren need a sitter the gramma should help.

Now I realize that not all grandmothers have the ideal situation that I have with my grandchildren living close, but there are lots of ways to BE THE GRAMMA. My sister talks on the phone to her granddaughter everyday and they visit through the computer by skyping and email. I know grammas who text or even write letters. My son-in-law posts a picture of Roko everyday on Facebook for me (and everyone else) to see.

Being THE GRAMMA really starts in your heart. You have to realize what a special role you have and how it influences the lives of your grandchildren and your children.

Bill Cosby once talked about his parents, as grandparents, were not the same people they were as his parents. I think I've heard my kids say the same thing about me.

So my patriarchal blessing...the brightest jewels in my crown...watching "Hot Wheels Force 5" with Andrew...what more could I ask out of life?