Yesterday's Commute

 My walk to 'work' yesterday was filled with magick....

I witnessed a little mob of starlings in a treetop and enjoyed their crazy, freeform mutterings.

I did not slip on any ice! (Hooray!)

Everyone I passed ignored me completely, even after I said 'hello' (what's up with that??), except for a wizened man (who looked like he was a hundred years old) who stopped me with his toothless smile, pointed at ducks on the river, said, "Aren't they BEAUTIFUL?", grinned and wished me a happy new year, and then shuffled on. (He was a gnome, I'm sure of it.)

There was a man and his dog in the snow, playing with a frisbee, and the dog was having the time of its life.

Leaves, leaves, leaves.

And clouds!

And the sounds of dripping, melting icicles.

And shadows....

And a studio that hasn't seen me for a bit.

And some FaceTime with this faraway grandbug. 

Due to a sudden poor connection partway through our computer visit, my face was frozen on her screen, and it remained so until the end of our conversation. 

As we said our goodbyes I was hesitant to throw her a kiss (as is our custom) because I wasn't sure she'd know when to catch it. And when I told her this, she just laughed and said,

"Oh, Yaya! I will catch anything you throw at me!" 

See? MAGICK.

...

A Wonder-Filled Visit

My champion -- aka the Grandson -- visited for a bit not long ago. As soon as his seatbelt was unbuckled he hit the ground running, and I could hear him excitedly shouting all the way to my back door.

"Gwamma! Guess what?" he said as he navigated the back step. "The Wild is in the pwayoffs!"

"The Wild?" I said. "The playoffs? Cool! They must be good at basketball."

He gave a puzzled look as I held the door for him. "Gwamma, don't you know anything about hockey??"

I do, sort of. I was teasing him. But it appears that I'll have to know a bit more about it in future if I want to earn his undying love and admiration.... He attempted to educate me as he peeled off his cap and shoes, filling me in about the stats and players and teams I've never heard of.

"The 'Blues?' The blue whats exactly? The Blue jays? The Blue birds?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gwamma, they're just the Bwoos. And the wed team is the Fwames."

"The 'Flames,' huh?"

"Yep. And they're wed because fire is WED."

"You don't say!" :)

First it was a game or two or twelve of Angry Birds. ("Gwamma, I will teach you how to pway. Watch and learn.")

Then it was outside for some croquet action. "Hey.... Did you buy this game Up North??" (Someone's obviously played croquet at a cabin.) Nevermind the stakes and hoops; we spent our time in the sun knocking each other's balls out of play and laughing as they rolled into the garden and under the vines.

In the course of our game we paused to watch the busy chickadees as they carved out a cavity in my locust tree. (The face of my Green Man merely looked amused as birds took turns darting in and out of his moustache.) The grandson was captivated, but only for a bit. Then it was back to the competition! He was The Wild and I was The Bwoos and there was no way he was going to let me win The Pway-Offs. :)

I didn't try too hard. And he made sure to encourage me after every swing I took that missed.

All too soon his mom phoned to tell us she was on her way, so before he left for home again we took a break for Freezie Pops.

It was a VERY good day. :)
...

The Christmas Conundrum

This reminds me: Holiday baking! Gah....

In an email to friends recently I wrote that the older I get the harder it is for me to like this time of year....

It's not the snow; I like a change of seasons, thank you. It's the holiday commercialism. It's ads on television telling me to buy a car for everyone on my list. It's me second-guessing myself.

It's Time getting away from me and all of a sudden Christmas is here and I've got all of five minutes to get everything done. It's my kids having a million places they've got to be for the holiday and so I take Tumbledown off their list so that they're not run so ragged.

It's knowing my grandbugs will be spending almost an entire week opening gifts day after day from people who just want to see them smile. It's me wondering what that does to a kid after all....

Just What the Doctor Ordered

I happily kept my 3-year-old grandbug for a bit yesterday to give her mama a little break.

Her visit was just what I needed.

In the few hours we were together she and I built a castle out of Legos. We watered the parched and yellowed pea plants in the weedy raised bed. She 'painted' the old weathered fence by spraying it with the garden hose. And I packed her a snack for the road....

Before our walk she helped me count quarters into dollars. (Me: "Do you know what a quarter is?" She: "Yes. It's a circle with a picture on it.") Then I loaded her into the stroller and the two of us headed off together to see a neighbor's chickens before traveling on into town for some lunch.

On our way we passed a garage sale in progress, and there on the curb was an old-fashioned wooden school desk. Avery spied it immediately and craned her neck to study it as we passed. "Oooooh," she said. "Gramma, I sure like that big kids' chair!" I did, too. And I spent the rest of our walk figuring out how I could possibly buy it and where to put it if I did....

I bought her a burger and fries and an orange drink with the quarters we'd counted, and she curled up in a booth and stirred her ketchup with one finger. I helped myself to her fries.

"Gramma!" she scolded, her brows knit together. "You ate one of my fries. You're supposed to say, 'please, can I have a fry.'"

I said, "Oh, I see. Please, can I have a fry?"

Instant cheer. "Sure, Gramma; you can have TWO fries! Here, I'll dip them in ketchup for you!" So generous. :)

We took a different way home, primarily to avoid the garage sale. (I didn't have the heart to pass the desk again and see her longing for it....) Her mama was waiting for us when we arrived. I'd hardly unbuckled her from the stroller and accompanied her inside before the poor thing melted down spectacularly. I said, "Uh-oh, I think someone's tired." And she said, dramatically, "Gramma, I am SOOOOO tired!!" 

And apparently I was, too. Because after she left I went inside and crashed. I slept until dark! And there was no reason for it. It wasn't like we'd spent those hours climbing trees or running races. I think I was just exhausted from the effort of being In The Moment. 

I wish sometimes that my brain was a DVR and that every time I'm with my grandchildren I could just press the 'rec' button and make each visit into a memory movie. Wouldn't that be the best?? I could just relax then, knowing that it would all be there for me to replay over and over again.... Maybe then our visits wouldn't tire me out so much....

Anyway, when I woke, I realized I'd wasted an entire afternoon sleeping when I could have been working. And then I corrected myself: no part of my day was a waste.

It was all dipped in holy gold.
... 

Fishing for Mermaids

Here she is. See the twinkle in her eye? :)

James and I drove to my Youngest's house to babysit for a bit late last Saturday afternoon, and Miss Avery (my 3-year-old grandbug) conned the two of us into watching Disney's 'The Little Mermaid' for the billionth time while she ate her supper. 

 

The first time we all watched it together, Avery sat between me and James on the couch and used my arm to cover her eyes when Ursula the sea witch robbed the mermaid Ariel of her voice. Then when the film was over she dubbed me Ursula and herself Ariel and we played 'Little Mermaid' together. Grampa James got to be dashing Prince Erik, a character in our play that was never called upon to do anything, and so he sat on the sidelines and watched instead. (Her little brother -- the real Prince Erik -- was not given a role at all. He apparently wasn't old enough for our game.)

 

I played Ursula to the best of my ability, curling my fingers and arching my eyebrows and mwa-ha-haaaaaaaaing with evil delight. It was a fun part to play and Avery soon saw the advantage in it. It didn't take long for her to switch our roles and soon she was playing Ursula most often, snatching my voice away with wicked glee and refusing to give it back. And I really played up Ariel, too -- pointing at my throat in a panic and silently begging for mercy while Avery crossed her arms and shook her head at me, ignoring my pleas. Her pretend power was obviously intoxicating, but eventually her soft heart won out and she'd zap my voice back. (Unsurprisingly, when the movie ended on Saturday she again asked me to play Ariel to her Ursula, and I couldn't help but think how important that pretend power must be to someone who's only three years old.)

 

At dusk last Saturday evening I walked Avery to the nearby lake to look for tadpoles while Grampa James stayed home and played with her little brother Erik. She brought her fishing pole and I brought the bucket and the two of us sat on the edge of the dock and gazed down into the shallow water while she dunked the rubber plug on the end of her line. 

 

"Hmmm. I'm not sure I see anything," I said. "Well, I see water bugs," said Avery. After a while she thought aloud that perhaps something would come to her 'hook' if she sang, so she did. And then she feigned a tug on her line and reeled it in. "Look Gramma, there's a mermaid on my hook! Put her in the bucket!" I grabbed the bucket and in she went.

 

Five invisible mermaids later, Avery pretended to catch an invisible sea witch. There was much fun shrieking and feigned panic and shouts of "throw her back!" A handful of high school kids partying on the end of the dock walked past us on their way to the parking lot and a boy (seeing the plug on the end of Avery's line) snickered, "Catch anything?" And Avery immediately piped up in her little lisp, "Uh-huh! We caught five mermaids! And a sea witch, too! But we threw her back before she could take away our voices!" 

 

Everyone stopped in their tracks. All that was missing was the sound of crickets. And then after a moment of stunned silence a girl whispered, "That. Is. SO. CUTE."

 

:)

...

To Fairyland and Back Again

I haven't written in a bit because I've been away.

For a whole wonder-filled week I was on a grandparenting adventure. I'd wake every morning to a vista view of skyscraper pines and distant snowcapped mountains, and spend long morning hours rocking my newest grandbug and enjoying girl talk with her mama. We 'grown-ups' enjoyed huge cupfuls of fancy coffee, and breakfasts of hot bagels and homemade pancakes, and sweet moments spent listening to the wind in the trees and little Abigail sighing in her sleep.

Abigail is a fairy child if ever there was one in my family. Little and long, with laser eyes that look right into my soul. Every time we walked past a window together she'd arch her back and look out at the forest, as though remembering that that's where she came from. And if she was fretful, all that seemed necessary was to lay her down by a view of the trees. (Changing table right next to a window = best idea ever.) 

Three days into my visit and we were already on an adventure together as her parents drove us high into the mountains for a picnic. I closed my eyes to avoid seeing the narrow switchbacks and plummeting ravines, but Abigail rode peacefully in her carseat, staring out at the world with wise eyes. This was her turf. Such a nature sprite couldn't have found herself in a better situation, and I suddenly suspected that she'd be leading her daredevil parents on even bigger adventures than they were already used to. (And they're used to big adventures.) 

My daughter and her husband live in a sweet little California town full of quaint shops and cute cottages, and every drive down the hill towards it brought new discoveries: Clouds of roses billowing over a cheery picket fence, or chickens pecking in a cottage garden. The place was right up my alley and I couldn't help but ponder a move there, until I thought of my other grandbugs back at home, and then all plans went out the window. I'd just have to be that grandma. The one that travels and likes it. It'd mean buying some rugged shoes for the constant stepping out of my comfort zone.

Before my arrival I'd imagined that sitting in a chair and staring at that beautiful baby would last forever, but Time fast-forwarded through my week there. As was predicted, I didn't want to leave. The tears began days before my flight home again. Leaving my baby and her baby was enough to send me into a tailspin. I said goodbye and rode the tram to the airport terminal sobbing my heart out, surrounded by businessmen who openly stared at my tears. How could they not know what was going on inside me? My daughter, the one I suspected was too daredevilish to tie herself down with a child, has embarked on The Adventure of All Adventures.

And now both my Girlz have children of their own, families to raise, lives to live. My work here is ending.... Suddenly I realized that Time had fired a starter pistol and begun a mad dash with me roped to it unwillingly. And dragging my feet was not slowing us down....

I've been home for over a week now, and sometimes I wonder if my trip to California even happened at all or if I just dreamed it. My days are full once more playing catch-up with all I've got on my plate for the summer. There are drawings to do and gardens to weed and thoughts to think. And another trip to plan for.

Because I will see that fairy baby again while she's still tiny enough to hold in my hands. :)

  ...

Best Easter Ever

Happy birth day to my sweet new Easter grandbunny, Miss Abigail, whose birth this morning reminds me of just how much I love this stage of my life.

Not that I didn't enjoy being a mother (or, in my case, an oddmother). It's just that being a granny oddmother is completely different. It's like motherhood with fairy wings, I swear.

I've been hearing for years about just how special this stage of life is and I have to admit I was a little afraid of it. I'm not a kid person. I thought I'd made an exception for my own offspring when they appeared way back when, but perhaps they could even tell. I was probably only fooling myself into thinking I was capable of being someone's mom....

Giving birth is hard enough. But mothering is the hardest thing any woman could ever do, I'm pretty dang sure. There are the small victories and the larger-than-life doubts, the ups and downs and joys and sadnesses. The comparisons -- gawd! Mothers everywhere with their my-way-is-the-only-way opinions. I thought for sure I was wrecking my Girlz more than I was raising them. And I wondered if the Universe knew what It was doing when It put them in my life.

But sometimes I half suspect that all those difficult paths led to HERE. Right here. Right now.

Because being a granny oddmother suddenly defines me to a T. I like this role. It has character! And magick! And scene-stealing dialogue one can sink their teeth into. And I can play it until I'm a hundred and ten and not have to worry about fitting into the ingenue costume or losing my part to someone younger or better suited for the role. Because there's no one better suited for the role! At least not on this stage.

And, bless us, grandmothers everywhere are like a big sisterhood. We can do what we do without worrying about other grandmas getting in our faces and saying, "it's wrong to serve dessert for lunch," or "rocking a baby to sleep does more harm than good," or "letting a child stay home from school just because it's snowing outside for the first time this winter just leads to more bad habits." We know that Life is all about the little things that are really big things in disguise.

And maybe we suspected as much back when we were mothers ourselves. But all the other things on our plates blinded us then. Supervisors and doctors and peers and even perhaps our own mothers urged us to toe the line and conform. Act like responsible adults. Use tough love.

But no one tells grannies what to do. We've got wisdom and experience on our side!

And cookies. :)
...

A Week Well Spent

The World's Cutest Toes

Last week was easily the busiest of weeks. The Grandbug's daycare closed after the Fourth of July holiday for a week-long summer vacation, and when asked, I eagerly agreed to step into the roll of babysitter once again. I used to provide Granny Daycare back in the day when the Bug was a baby, and I admit I went through some sad withdrawal symptoms when her parents decided to enroll her in a program with kids her own age. So opening the doors to Granny Daycare once more was amazingly rewarding. And thoroughly exhausting. But in a good way.

 

Together, Miss Bug and I painted our toenails red and our fingernails silver. We picked sweet, fat peas and ate them raw, straight from the garden. We released a newly hatched Monarch butterfly into the summery afternoon and rediscovered the magic handknit slippers, the ones that take us on spectacular indoor adventures. With a length of dental floss I repaired the sockmonkey's blown seam and she sealed the healing process completely with a sloppy kiss. We talked about dreams, we discussed the potty, we read books about big sisters and new babies. We poured imaginary tea into imaginary teacups, dispensed fairy-sized gingersnaps, and gave out dozens of hugs. And we rocked in the darkness of the nursery with our arms around each other....

 

Yes, I napped the evenings away afterwards, but with a smile on my face. My time was VERY well spent.

...

A Character Remembered

My Gram

My Gram passed away last September. If she'd lived, she'd be 100 years old today. I, for one, thought she'd live forever and would not have been surprised at all if she'd done just that.

At her memorial service, my cousins stood up and recounted fun (and funny) Gram memories, and during that time I felt the eyes of my own daughter and my brothers upon me as they good-naturedly reminded me of how similar Gram and I are. Or were. Cut from the same cloth. This pleases me. My Gram was a character! And if I'm at all like her, I'm proud of it.

Getting through Gram's memorial service and burial was do-able. But it wasn't long after I was home alone again that I had a total cry-fest meltdown of titanic proportions. I slept the day away, got up for a few hours, melted down Big Time, and slept for another twelve. And afterwards I felt so fragile that wearing clothes was like being dressed in sandpaper....

Gram and I weren't close -- ours wasn't the kind of grandchild/grandmother relationship that I secretly imagined my other cousins enjoyed -- so my only explanation for this meltdown is this: I think I realized that this interesting character who had always been in my life was now really truly gone, and that my window of opportunity to learn from her was closed now forever.

I'm a grandmother now. Since the birth of my own grandbug two years ago I've been hyperfocused on grandparenting in all its forms; I want to be the best I can be. My maternal Grandma was the doily-crocheting, mitten-knitting, breadbaking type who smelled like face powder and always wore a dress with an apron and wouldn't leave home without a hat and carried bus tokens in her patent leather purse. My paternal Gram wore jodhpurs and boots and woolen shirts, worked a farm and drove a hard bargain, and could shoot a bear and dress it too (and did, in fact)....

City Mouse. Country Mouse. Two extremes. Two powerful role models.

I want to be like them both, maybe somewhere in the middle. When I admitted this to a friend recently, she said, "This whole granny thing isn't YOU. You have to reinvent the role!"

That got me thinking.... About becoming a bread-knitting, mitten-baking (that's right), granny oddmother who wears leather work gloves and smells like a cosmetics counter, keeps theatre stubs in her Carhartts and dresses bears in dresses. The whole idea appeals to me like crazy, and I've since decided it's high time I claim my inheritance proper and become the character I was meant to be.

It's the right thing to do after all. :)

...

 

(Miss you, Gram. Happy birthday. Love, Punky.)

...