As I look into the eyes of our four grandchildren, I wonder how they see their grandparents. What is going through their minds when they hear their parents say they are off to to see Papa and Nana H (in the case of Spiderman and Batman) or Napa and Nama for Love Monster and Smirker?
Spending more and more time with all of them, I began to think back to many, many years ago when I was a grandson, the oldest of 3 boys. The anticipation, memories and feelings of traveling to and spending a few days with my grandparents have not faded with the passage of time. And the Christmas season always tends to make me reminisce even more about those wonderful times and those special people. I was fortunate that both sets of grandparents lived in the same small town in northeastern Iowa. A 6 hour drive on two-lane highways in a station wagon with no seat belts. Can you imagine 3 boys standing right behind their parents demanding "are we there yet?" about 50 miles into the trip! Now those were the days. Our visits were either for Thanksgiving or Christmas and once in the summer when my Dad was taking a break from the classroom. My parents, of course, were looking forward to seeing their parents and in-laws but the 3 of us were bouncing-off-the-wall ready to see both grandpas and grandmas, and our Auntie Maude as we called her.
We always arrived at my Mom's parents first - down the alley and up the driveway to the back of the house. We spilled out of the car and raced up the stairs to the back door and there they were, ready to greet us. But first, we always had to open the small pull down hatch next to the storm door where the dairyman would leave the milk bottles. Once in the door, we had to check the inside hatch. How cool was that. You didn't even have to go outside to get the milk. Now that tells you how long ago was. Then we hugged grandpa and grandma and settled in to catching up over sugar cookies and Ovaltine (well, maybe not in the summer). Oh, and grandma always served breakfast with her famous sugar cookies. "This is the life."
We boys always had the attic room - up the enclosed staircase in the middle of the house. We thought it was ginormous! And it had all these small rooms to explore off the "great" room at the top of the stairs. It was our private hangout. Grandma M would take us to his Mobile "filling" station to see the cars being worked on in the shop and to watch him chat with everyone that came in for a fill-up while he washed their windshield and checked their oil - for free...without being asked! Like I said, it was a different time. He was a serious man and tried to keep us in check as much as he could. Grandma M, on the other hand, doted on us without reservation. Grandpa M loved meal time when Grandma M would fix his favorites. He was a true Iowa meat and potatoes man. I can still see him sitting at the head of the table and Grandma M next to him with her ubiquitous apron wrapped around her waist tending to everyone's needs before her own. She kissed us with her lips folded in, which seemed different at the time but we loved it anyway. She was a very sweet lady. We played football in the back yard at Thanksgiving, often in the snow but that never bothered us. We were young and knew the warmth of their house and their arms awaited us after we finished running ourselves silly. In the summer, we lounged in their screened in front porch, taking turns on the swing and the long couch and sipping lemonade grandma M brought us before we could even ask.
The next day we drove over to Grandpa and Grandma H's house "way"over on the other side of town. I bet it took almost 5 minutes to get there! Grandpa H was a tall, thin man with a grin always on his face. He had tattoos from serving in the Navy. The really cool one was the dagger on his forearm that appeared to go under the skin and back out. He wasn't as proud of them later in life. He always wore long-sleeved shirts even in the heat of the summer. Momentos of a prior life. He could be strict in his own way but was a very funny guy, given to telling jokes and stories. He worked for the railroad, which was the town's primary employer, and traveled all over the world at times. He even spent a couple of years in Alaska. Grandma H was a tiny woman, with a twinkle always in her eye and also a mind of her own. She didn't go with Grandpa to Alaska. "Too darn cold!" She played the organ in the Presbyterian Church. We were amazed at the sound coming from the organ delivered with skill from those wee person's arthritic hands. Remarkable. She was a dear.
Then there was our Auntie Maude. (She loved Jonathan Winters as we all did - Maudie Frickert). Everyone should have an Auntie Maude - maybe you do. She was not married, and never would be, s it turned out. But she was the life of the party and had a lot of great friends. She also worked at the railroad - paid the time sheets for the engineers, conductors, etc. She had some great stories about her run-ins with some of the workers. she also had a very strong will and spirit. The 3 of them together had tornadic discussions - we enjoyed them anyway. We didn't stay up late at Grandpa and Grandma M's as they turned in early. Maudie, on the other hand, was a bit of a night owl. We loved staying up watching movies and eating popcorn with Maudie. She introduced us to scary movies (much to the chagrin of Mom and Dad) like "The Four Skulls of Jonathan Drake". Seeing it again years later we thought it was actually kind of cheesy, but in our grade school years it was creepy!
Breakfast and Grandpa and Grandma H's house was a treat. Grandpa H loved his donuts (who doesn't) - powered donuts were his favorite. So we dined on OJ, cereal and donuts while listening to the local radio station and making our plans for the day. One of our favorite haunts was the Mason's Building, where Grandpa H was a High Falootin' Grand Muckety Muck or something like that. Their titles were hilarious. We thought it was a "secret society"of some kind. It seemed mysterious to us anyway. He would don his fez and drive those little go-karts around in the Independence Day Parade. Grown men! He was cool. And then there was the an old oak billiard table in the basement complete with laced leather pockets. It was huge...and beautiful. I am surprised none of us ended up as a pool hustler like Minnesota Fats. Ah, the sharp strike on the balls as they rolled quietly across the felt. Magical.
Those were wonderful times. Our grandparents were special and did what grandparents are destined to do - love their grandchildren beyond words and provide memorable moments that we remember to this day. And we loved them back - and still do. Thank you Grandpa and Grandma M and Grandpa and Grandma H. You helped shape us to this day. (Auntie Maude had a hand in that too!)
Reflecting on this special relationship I had with my grandparents, I only hope that we, as grandparents, can provide the same lasting impression in Love Monster, Smirker, Spiderman and Batman. Every moment with them is precious and we look forward with great anticipation for each new adventure along the way.
Oh, and there is that patience thing too.
Wishing all you grandparents a very Merry Christmas.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
A Smitten Spiderman
I think my 2 1/2 year old grandson likes older women!
Well, there is, of course, his Mama and 2 Nanas, but that is not really what I am talking about. By older I mean 6 years of age. When you are 16 - it's puppy love. When you are 10 - it's a crush. At 2 1/2, smitten seems to be the right word. Whatever you might call it, there was definitely something going on inside Spidey's brain at the park one day this past summer.
His usual interaction with other kids at the playground can best be described as a passive acknowledgement of their presence. He has a sunny disposition so smiling at the other climbers, sliders and swingers as they pass each other is just natural. And they will occasionally challenge each other about who goes down the slide first or who's turn it is to swing, but like many other things at this age, those encounters are short-lived and soon forgotten. But there's not much else in the way of conversation at this age. They are all just too busy expending energy, much to the glee of those watching over them on that day, including me. Energy = fatigue = nap time = time for grandpa to read a book.
However, on this warm, July morning at the playground a "vision" appeared to Spidey out of the blue and everything else in his world stopped. SHE had long pig-tails and was wearing a yellow t-shirt adorned with menacing dinosaurs. As she ran towards the play area where he was standing he didn't take his eyes off her. Uncharacteristically, he boldly walked up to her, waved and said, "Hey, hey, what are you doing?" I think he was actually in her space! At first I thought it was the T-Rex on her shirt. It was only after he proceeded to follow her every move throughout the large playground that I began to think it had nothing to do with a budding interest in Paleontology.
I watched him in awe. What a move. Way to go Spidey!
No matter where she went, including all the equipment built for 5 year olds and up, there was Spidey in hot pursuit. He struggled at times climbing in places where a 2 1/2 year shouldn't be but he was not letting anything slow him down. (To Spidey's Mom and Dad - Just so you know, I was not sitting on a park bench with a cup of coffee all this time enjoying the encounter. I was right behind him or under him making sure his mission was not creating a safety issue.) It was like I wasn't there. His focus was on the yellow blur dashing about the playground.
At one point, she walked up to him and said, "I will be right back" and ran over to her grandmother on the other side of the park. As she ran away, he actually stood there, head bowed, arms at his side and seemed very sad. He said to no one in particular, "Where did she go?"
It was very cute.
When she returned, knowing that she had an admirer, she said to Spidey, "I am back." and ran off. He perked up immediately and, yes, was right behind her. As she was climbing out of a tunnel near where I was standing she said to me, "Is he going to do everything I do?" She was on to him. I said, "probably". She sighed and asked me how old he was. I told her and she said proudly,
Well, I am 6!"
While she rested a moment, Spidey seized the moment and said with a great deal of bravado, "Watch!" He then pulled himself on to a table as if he he had made it to the summit of Mt. Everest, stood up and - I am not kidding - raised both arms over his head jumping around like Sylvester Stallone at the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum in Rocky and said, "Look at me." It was awesome. Who is this kid? The girl-in-the-yellow-dinosaur shirt looked at him then looked at me. Not quite sure what she was thinking. Perhaps a little impressed and maybe just a little incredulous.
And then she was gone.
Spidey watched her go. What was he going to do? Will he run after her? Will tears stream down his face?
Nah! He ran to the slide and did a couple of chin-ups at the top before whooshing down. Landed on his feet and was off to climb the wall.
He is after all 2 1/2.
Just another great day to be a grandpa.
Well, there is, of course, his Mama and 2 Nanas, but that is not really what I am talking about. By older I mean 6 years of age. When you are 16 - it's puppy love. When you are 10 - it's a crush. At 2 1/2, smitten seems to be the right word. Whatever you might call it, there was definitely something going on inside Spidey's brain at the park one day this past summer.
His usual interaction with other kids at the playground can best be described as a passive acknowledgement of their presence. He has a sunny disposition so smiling at the other climbers, sliders and swingers as they pass each other is just natural. And they will occasionally challenge each other about who goes down the slide first or who's turn it is to swing, but like many other things at this age, those encounters are short-lived and soon forgotten. But there's not much else in the way of conversation at this age. They are all just too busy expending energy, much to the glee of those watching over them on that day, including me. Energy = fatigue = nap time = time for grandpa to read a book.
However, on this warm, July morning at the playground a "vision" appeared to Spidey out of the blue and everything else in his world stopped. SHE had long pig-tails and was wearing a yellow t-shirt adorned with menacing dinosaurs. As she ran towards the play area where he was standing he didn't take his eyes off her. Uncharacteristically, he boldly walked up to her, waved and said, "Hey, hey, what are you doing?" I think he was actually in her space! At first I thought it was the T-Rex on her shirt. It was only after he proceeded to follow her every move throughout the large playground that I began to think it had nothing to do with a budding interest in Paleontology.
I watched him in awe. What a move. Way to go Spidey!
No matter where she went, including all the equipment built for 5 year olds and up, there was Spidey in hot pursuit. He struggled at times climbing in places where a 2 1/2 year shouldn't be but he was not letting anything slow him down. (To Spidey's Mom and Dad - Just so you know, I was not sitting on a park bench with a cup of coffee all this time enjoying the encounter. I was right behind him or under him making sure his mission was not creating a safety issue.) It was like I wasn't there. His focus was on the yellow blur dashing about the playground.
At one point, she walked up to him and said, "I will be right back" and ran over to her grandmother on the other side of the park. As she ran away, he actually stood there, head bowed, arms at his side and seemed very sad. He said to no one in particular, "Where did she go?"
It was very cute.
When she returned, knowing that she had an admirer, she said to Spidey, "I am back." and ran off. He perked up immediately and, yes, was right behind her. As she was climbing out of a tunnel near where I was standing she said to me, "Is he going to do everything I do?" She was on to him. I said, "probably". She sighed and asked me how old he was. I told her and she said proudly,
Well, I am 6!"
While she rested a moment, Spidey seized the moment and said with a great deal of bravado, "Watch!" He then pulled himself on to a table as if he he had made it to the summit of Mt. Everest, stood up and - I am not kidding - raised both arms over his head jumping around like Sylvester Stallone at the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum in Rocky and said, "Look at me." It was awesome. Who is this kid? The girl-in-the-yellow-dinosaur shirt looked at him then looked at me. Not quite sure what she was thinking. Perhaps a little impressed and maybe just a little incredulous.
And then she was gone.
Spidey watched her go. What was he going to do? Will he run after her? Will tears stream down his face?
Nah! He ran to the slide and did a couple of chin-ups at the top before whooshing down. Landed on his feet and was off to climb the wall.
He is after all 2 1/2.
Just another great day to be a grandpa.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Tidy Tots - NOT!
I am not a neat freak.
I do not have OCD
And I am 180 degrees opposite a Type A personality.
So why is that whenever my grandchildren just begins to leave any kind of evidence that they were in our house I become Felix Unger of the Odd Couple? This "evidence" comes in many forms - things matted, crumbly, sticky, stained, smeared, smudged, yucky, gross - well you get the picture.
Sure, I like our house to be clean and orderly but perhaps the Dust Buster-in-a-holster look is taking things just a bit too far!
Tell me please - is there a grandpa out there that doesn't feel just a little uncomfortable about the trail being left behind by the little munchkins in your house?
It's a day like any other day. Everything is in order - generally speaking. Then Spiderman and Batman arrive. (That's what my son and daughter-in-law call them.) More accurately, we bring them into our house. On purpose. Don't get me wrong - we love them to death and want to help our son and his wife out who both work full-time. We also look foward to experiencing what the ingenious minds of a 3 year old (almost) and 6 month old have cooked up for us on any given day. Remember my patience thing?
My goal: to make sure that the house appears like they are not there. Reasonable right?
Spiderman and Batman's goal: to make sure it looks like they have lived here without adult supervision for 2 weeks! No problem.
Both objectives are reasonable in my mind but then again I am eligible for Medicare while Curious George is their favorite TV show.
Let the games begin.
Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I feel like the guy with the shovel and garbage can following the horse troop in the Rose Parade. Ever ready to make sure things are nice and neat. No cereal, donut crumbs, syrup, cottage cheese or poop on the floor or furniture. And definitely not the entire contents of the playroom strewn about our living quarters. Damn straight - not in my house! Yeah right.
Before my very eyes they are transformed into champions of clutter, commandos of chaos, masters of mayhem, sages of smudge and wizards of wreckage. Proof of their presence is ubiquitous. I am reminded of the little, long-nosed character named Kilroy who made his way around the world (long before the internet), becoming a legend among the millions of military men and women who served in World War II
This doodle, with the saying "Kilroy was here" popped up in unexpected places across all theaters of war visited by American troops. Like Kilroy, signs of Spiderman and Batman's presence are found everywhere, including the most unexpected places.
Why do I feel so compelled that they be neat? After all, keeping Papa and Nana's house organized is NOT the #1 thing on Spiderman and Batman's mind. Intellectually, I get that but still...
I am more than just a little envious of their grandmother's ability to let things roll off her back. She does not let the "trail that they leave behind" get to her. Ever. She looks at me like an alien when she sees me go into my Mr. Tidy alter ego.
Their parents are also so very good at taking these things in stride. Nothing seems to bother them. They focus on the joy of each new day as Spiderman and Batman surprise them every day. Their DNA includes a very strong patience gene.
But for now, sadly, the "Grandpa was here" legend lives on - micromanaging his way through a day with the grandkids.
I gotta learn to relax and enjoy the syrup running down Spiderman's shirt, pants, chair and floor.
I NEED A SPONGE NOW!!!!!
I do not have OCD
And I am 180 degrees opposite a Type A personality.
So why is that whenever my grandchildren just begins to leave any kind of evidence that they were in our house I become Felix Unger of the Odd Couple? This "evidence" comes in many forms - things matted, crumbly, sticky, stained, smeared, smudged, yucky, gross - well you get the picture.
Sure, I like our house to be clean and orderly but perhaps the Dust Buster-in-a-holster look is taking things just a bit too far!
Tell me please - is there a grandpa out there that doesn't feel just a little uncomfortable about the trail being left behind by the little munchkins in your house?
It's a day like any other day. Everything is in order - generally speaking. Then Spiderman and Batman arrive. (That's what my son and daughter-in-law call them.) More accurately, we bring them into our house. On purpose. Don't get me wrong - we love them to death and want to help our son and his wife out who both work full-time. We also look foward to experiencing what the ingenious minds of a 3 year old (almost) and 6 month old have cooked up for us on any given day. Remember my patience thing?
My goal: to make sure that the house appears like they are not there. Reasonable right?
Spiderman and Batman's goal: to make sure it looks like they have lived here without adult supervision for 2 weeks! No problem.
Both objectives are reasonable in my mind but then again I am eligible for Medicare while Curious George is their favorite TV show.
Let the games begin.
Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I feel like the guy with the shovel and garbage can following the horse troop in the Rose Parade. Ever ready to make sure things are nice and neat. No cereal, donut crumbs, syrup, cottage cheese or poop on the floor or furniture. And definitely not the entire contents of the playroom strewn about our living quarters. Damn straight - not in my house! Yeah right.
Before my very eyes they are transformed into champions of clutter, commandos of chaos, masters of mayhem, sages of smudge and wizards of wreckage. Proof of their presence is ubiquitous. I am reminded of the little, long-nosed character named Kilroy who made his way around the world (long before the internet), becoming a legend among the millions of military men and women who served in World War II
This doodle, with the saying "Kilroy was here" popped up in unexpected places across all theaters of war visited by American troops. Like Kilroy, signs of Spiderman and Batman's presence are found everywhere, including the most unexpected places.
Why do I feel so compelled that they be neat? After all, keeping Papa and Nana's house organized is NOT the #1 thing on Spiderman and Batman's mind. Intellectually, I get that but still...
I am more than just a little envious of their grandmother's ability to let things roll off her back. She does not let the "trail that they leave behind" get to her. Ever. She looks at me like an alien when she sees me go into my Mr. Tidy alter ego.
Their parents are also so very good at taking these things in stride. Nothing seems to bother them. They focus on the joy of each new day as Spiderman and Batman surprise them every day. Their DNA includes a very strong patience gene.
But for now, sadly, the "Grandpa was here" legend lives on - micromanaging his way through a day with the grandkids.
I gotta learn to relax and enjoy the syrup running down Spiderman's shirt, pants, chair and floor.
I NEED A SPONGE NOW!!!!!
Friday, September 13, 2013
Love Monster Meets Grandpa Monster
Do you remember the moment you saw your first grandchild?
I am sure you do. Filled with wonder, awe, love, tears (the good kind) and other emotions that are beyond description.
I remember. Seeing her face for the first time, memorizing her features, holding this tiny bundle of joy in my arms, studying her small hands and feet and just not wanting to look away, ever. The mystery of creation. Such memories.
My only hope is that Love Monster (that's what my daughter lovingly calls her first child in her blog) has no recollection whatsoever of our first meeting. Let me explain.
As soon as we got the news, we quickly made the arrangements for our long flight to see our first child's first baby...and our daughter too of course! It's important to note that Love Monster was born 5 weeks early and while healthy overall, she was still a premie. As luck would have it, I came down with a severe case of bronchitis just at the time of our trip. I wanted to see her so badly but with my illness and her condition, it was going to be very difficult. Precautions had to be taken. This was where my wife (a nurse) provided the ground rules for my visits - don't get too close or hold her too long AND I must wear rubber gloves and a mask. I understand but really? Yes, really!
As first time grandparents a lot of pictures were taken - a lot. A lot times 10 then double that. It is expected. But I also just couldn't help it. I wanted to capture every facial expression, every movement of her hands and feet and every time I was sure she was only looking at me. I didn't want to miss a thing. And the pictures are so adorable (spoken like a true grandparent). Yes, every single one of the 63 pictures of her sleeping in the crib are just precious.
Love Monster was soothed for hours by the calming voices, smiles and gently arms of her mother and grandmother (Nama as Love Monster and her sister, Smirker, now call her) - a good overdose of motherhood.
Now imagine this little baby seeing her grandpa for the first time.
In my mind I imagined her thinking something like this -
"Whoa! What in the name of mama's breast milk is this?
Yikes! It has nothing below it's eyes.
I can't understand a single word it is saying.
And his hands are powdery and smell like that place where I was born.
It's Grandpa Monster!!!!
If my legs would only work, I would run...run very fast...far, far away.
Well at least as far as my mama's arms."
As you might guess, this was very frustrating for me and maybe just a little scary for Love Monster. But as the years pass we have come to see the humor in the situation.
Love Monster is now 6 1/2 and finds these pictures hysterical probably because she now sees me behind my disguise.
And by the way, she doesn't call me Grandpa Monster.
She calls me Napa.
I do love wine.
I also love Love Monster.
I am sure you do. Filled with wonder, awe, love, tears (the good kind) and other emotions that are beyond description.
I remember. Seeing her face for the first time, memorizing her features, holding this tiny bundle of joy in my arms, studying her small hands and feet and just not wanting to look away, ever. The mystery of creation. Such memories.
My only hope is that Love Monster (that's what my daughter lovingly calls her first child in her blog) has no recollection whatsoever of our first meeting. Let me explain.
As soon as we got the news, we quickly made the arrangements for our long flight to see our first child's first baby...and our daughter too of course! It's important to note that Love Monster was born 5 weeks early and while healthy overall, she was still a premie. As luck would have it, I came down with a severe case of bronchitis just at the time of our trip. I wanted to see her so badly but with my illness and her condition, it was going to be very difficult. Precautions had to be taken. This was where my wife (a nurse) provided the ground rules for my visits - don't get too close or hold her too long AND I must wear rubber gloves and a mask. I understand but really? Yes, really!
As first time grandparents a lot of pictures were taken - a lot. A lot times 10 then double that. It is expected. But I also just couldn't help it. I wanted to capture every facial expression, every movement of her hands and feet and every time I was sure she was only looking at me. I didn't want to miss a thing. And the pictures are so adorable (spoken like a true grandparent). Yes, every single one of the 63 pictures of her sleeping in the crib are just precious.
Love Monster was soothed for hours by the calming voices, smiles and gently arms of her mother and grandmother (Nama as Love Monster and her sister, Smirker, now call her) - a good overdose of motherhood.
Now imagine this little baby seeing her grandpa for the first time.
In my mind I imagined her thinking something like this -
"Whoa! What in the name of mama's breast milk is this?
Yikes! It has nothing below it's eyes.
I can't understand a single word it is saying.
And his hands are powdery and smell like that place where I was born.
It's Grandpa Monster!!!!
If my legs would only work, I would run...run very fast...far, far away.
Well at least as far as my mama's arms."
Love Monster is now 6 1/2 and finds these pictures hysterical probably because she now sees me behind my disguise.
And by the way, she doesn't call me Grandpa Monster.
She calls me Napa.
I do love wine.
I also love Love Monster.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Any Grandfathers Out there?-
Being a grandfather re-awakens many long, dormant memories. A time when my kids were "new" and growing up. And I thought I was done with all of that (as rewarding as it was). Then came grandchildren. How wondrous! So very special watching your daughter or son with their new baby. Then, it's our time to spoil 'em and give 'em back to their parents. See ya later! At least that is what we and our friends say about our roles as grandparents. And we do, don't get me wrong, but it's that time that we are with them I hadn't really thought too much about. And I should have because that can seem to be a very, very long time.
I hadn't seen very many blogs from the grandfather's perspective so perhaps my blog may provide other grandfathers with some sense of comaraderie, support, kudos and just a good old "thank you" for what you do for your grandkids, your children and yourself. If nothing else, grandmothers, mothers and fathers might find it amusing! It could, also, document for us all, some memorable times along the way. At first, I wondered what in the world could I possibly write about. Then again, would anyone want to reading these musings. But after 4 grandchildren (2 girls and 2 boys) ranging from 6 months to 6 1/2 years, the idea that I may have sufficient "fodder" went out the window like my patience often does.
Patience. Ah........therein lies the rub!
Any of you other grandfathers out there feeling a kinship yet?
If there is anything a grandparent needs when being with young grandchildren (besides unconditional love) it is patience. I have not been blessed with a bounty of patience. (I am famous for the "if you don't stop crying you will never get ice cream again" incident - did I really say that? Wow!) It's just not in my DNA. Just ask my grandchildren's grandmother! That, fortunately, is what she possesses in abundance. Thank God for that. How many times have I heard - "just take a step back" or "now just take 10 deep breaths". Yep, that's me.
And by the way, any time I say MY grandchildren or MY children, I am really saying OUR grandchildren or OUR children. But then again, this is from my perspective, so..........
Oh, and if my wife reads this (which I am not totally sure should be permitted), I suspect she will have her own take on "my sense of the moment". A grandfather and grandmother see things just a "little" differently. Kind of like Bob Uecker (baseball announcer for the Milwaukee Brewers) saying as the pitcher throws a ball 10 feet behind the batter - "Just a little bit inside").
With more mothers and fathers both working, as well as the rise of single parent family units, the need for childcare is greater than ever. Yes, there are responsible "babysitters", as we had for our kids (mostly in the summer months) and there are large corporate daycare and childcare organizations that have sprung up to fulfill these needs. However, there is nothing like a member of the family when it comes to taking care of and helping to raise young children. Nada!
Sure, the sheer cost of childcare can be daunting or even unaffordable but beyond that the benefits of family childcare are immeasurable. Grandparents are a natural to serve in this capacity. Maybe not all grandparents, but certainly many have the love, caring nature, experience (even with decades removed), physical health (the ability to chase down a runaway toddler) and the opportunity to lend a helping hand. But arguably more than anything, it is critical that the grandparents WANT to take on this role. To do it begrudgingly only negatively impacts the grandparents themselves and the parents, but more importantly the grandchildren. And no one wants that.
Just think, we retire after working our adult lives and now have the luxury of more time (no one knows how much) to do things individually and as a couple that we have always wanted to but never seemed to have enough of that precious time. Things like traveling, learning something new, volunteering, playing golf, reading more or just feeling like you don't HAVE to do anything. Our reward for "toiling away" all those years. Ok, ok, it wasn't that bad at all. Anyway, now we have the chance to get to know the grandchildren better and for them to see that us "old folks" can be a lot of fun. It is a very special relationship and it needs to be fostered and nurtured to grow. It has to be something we WANT to do. And they need to feel that.
With that said...remember the "patience" thing?!
Patience testing moments:
- the "request" to play with My Little Ponies (grandpa?) until what seemed like the next millenia, or
- going ballistic just because they didn't want to wear pants to the park - as if there was something inherently wrong about that and I just didn't get it, or
- the refusal to eat anything but donuts ("no-nos" in their words) for breakfast, even though grandpa is sitting right there, right there in front of them, eating a donut, or
- having that cute little baby boy look at you with with a smile so big (I love you grandpa) and then spit up half is bottle on my nice new shirt, or
- eating shredded cheese out of the plastic bag with most of it ending up on the floor and not actually being consumed (and with no remorse or concern whatsoever - none), or
- poopy diapers (ok, that really can't be helped when they are younger...but still)
I never said it is easy. And I suspect other grandpas, grandads, papas, napas, bumpas and the many other names these kids come up with know the feeling.
Did I also say this is therapeutic? Yes, indeed!
Isn't it grand.
I hadn't seen very many blogs from the grandfather's perspective so perhaps my blog may provide other grandfathers with some sense of comaraderie, support, kudos and just a good old "thank you" for what you do for your grandkids, your children and yourself. If nothing else, grandmothers, mothers and fathers might find it amusing! It could, also, document for us all, some memorable times along the way. At first, I wondered what in the world could I possibly write about. Then again, would anyone want to reading these musings. But after 4 grandchildren (2 girls and 2 boys) ranging from 6 months to 6 1/2 years, the idea that I may have sufficient "fodder" went out the window like my patience often does.
Patience. Ah........therein lies the rub!
Any of you other grandfathers out there feeling a kinship yet?
If there is anything a grandparent needs when being with young grandchildren (besides unconditional love) it is patience. I have not been blessed with a bounty of patience. (I am famous for the "if you don't stop crying you will never get ice cream again" incident - did I really say that? Wow!) It's just not in my DNA. Just ask my grandchildren's grandmother! That, fortunately, is what she possesses in abundance. Thank God for that. How many times have I heard - "just take a step back" or "now just take 10 deep breaths". Yep, that's me.
And by the way, any time I say MY grandchildren or MY children, I am really saying OUR grandchildren or OUR children. But then again, this is from my perspective, so..........
Oh, and if my wife reads this (which I am not totally sure should be permitted), I suspect she will have her own take on "my sense of the moment". A grandfather and grandmother see things just a "little" differently. Kind of like Bob Uecker (baseball announcer for the Milwaukee Brewers) saying as the pitcher throws a ball 10 feet behind the batter - "Just a little bit inside").
With more mothers and fathers both working, as well as the rise of single parent family units, the need for childcare is greater than ever. Yes, there are responsible "babysitters", as we had for our kids (mostly in the summer months) and there are large corporate daycare and childcare organizations that have sprung up to fulfill these needs. However, there is nothing like a member of the family when it comes to taking care of and helping to raise young children. Nada!
Sure, the sheer cost of childcare can be daunting or even unaffordable but beyond that the benefits of family childcare are immeasurable. Grandparents are a natural to serve in this capacity. Maybe not all grandparents, but certainly many have the love, caring nature, experience (even with decades removed), physical health (the ability to chase down a runaway toddler) and the opportunity to lend a helping hand. But arguably more than anything, it is critical that the grandparents WANT to take on this role. To do it begrudgingly only negatively impacts the grandparents themselves and the parents, but more importantly the grandchildren. And no one wants that.
Just think, we retire after working our adult lives and now have the luxury of more time (no one knows how much) to do things individually and as a couple that we have always wanted to but never seemed to have enough of that precious time. Things like traveling, learning something new, volunteering, playing golf, reading more or just feeling like you don't HAVE to do anything. Our reward for "toiling away" all those years. Ok, ok, it wasn't that bad at all. Anyway, now we have the chance to get to know the grandchildren better and for them to see that us "old folks" can be a lot of fun. It is a very special relationship and it needs to be fostered and nurtured to grow. It has to be something we WANT to do. And they need to feel that.
With that said...remember the "patience" thing?!
Patience testing moments:
- the "request" to play with My Little Ponies (grandpa?) until what seemed like the next millenia, or
- going ballistic just because they didn't want to wear pants to the park - as if there was something inherently wrong about that and I just didn't get it, or
- the refusal to eat anything but donuts ("no-nos" in their words) for breakfast, even though grandpa is sitting right there, right there in front of them, eating a donut, or
- having that cute little baby boy look at you with with a smile so big (I love you grandpa) and then spit up half is bottle on my nice new shirt, or
- eating shredded cheese out of the plastic bag with most of it ending up on the floor and not actually being consumed (and with no remorse or concern whatsoever - none), or
- poopy diapers (ok, that really can't be helped when they are younger...but still)
I never said it is easy. And I suspect other grandpas, grandads, papas, napas, bumpas and the many other names these kids come up with know the feeling.
Did I also say this is therapeutic? Yes, indeed!
Isn't it grand.
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