The heartless grandmother

Given his druthers, Jacob would spend an entire day with Mincrafters on theiPad, the iPhone, and barring that, watching TV. It's not usually a problem because when he's here after school we're busy with homework and then he's off to baseball practice or a game. I figure between school and baseball and walking his dogs, he gets plenty of exercise and time away from electronics.
But he was recently grounded from electronics for several days, and he became the bright, talkative, loveable child I am used to. We went to dinner and had a great conversation, we laughed and joked, and he read a book in my office and declared now he knew why I love to read.
Today being Friday, he had no homework, so he was here from three to five-thirty (turned out to be six) without anything to do. He immediately picked up the iPad and disappeared, though I warned him he would not spend the whole afternoon with it.
At four I said it was time to put it away, and we had a bit of a scene. My words about wanting him to use his creativity instead of being a sponge fell on deaf ears--at seven, he may not have understood what I was saying. I suggested several things he could do but he shook his head at each and declared everything "in this house is boring." He came close to uttering one of the words he's forbidden to say, close enough that I got the gist and said if I heard that again he'd go to time out. I left him, taking the iPad with me, and told him to decide what he wanted to do. In a bit he came into my office.
End result: we had a delightful two hours. He dictated a letter to Elizabeth (my goal is to get him to write it himself) which caused lots of jokes and laughter and mock indignation on my part, and then he said if I'd do it with him, he'd do a puzzle. He absolutely delighted in doing a fairly simple one that we'd done before, but he had a wonderful time and crowed every time he put a piece in place. By then, it was five-thirty so we went to watch the news together. He was most interested in the woman who tried to storm the White House and wanted to know why the police shot her and why she did that. I tried to explain about mental illness and government security, but when the news cut away to another subject, he said, "I wanted to hear the whole story."
Long story short, we did things together--yes, I had work on my desk, but I chose to spend the time with him. I know grandmothers who won't discipline because they want to be loved. I don't feel that way, and I hope someday he'll remember me as the grandmother who tried to teach and appreciate and help his creativity. I read in Ann Landers about a grandmother who never called her grandchild on his lying. Ann Landers asked if she wanted to be remembered as the grandmother with whom the child could get away with anything. I don't want to be the grandmother who didn't care what he did and let him play electronic games all day.
Highpoint of a day which was quite pleasant--I wrote a lot, went to the dermatologist (one of my favorite people), and served Betty lunch on the deck--tuna salad and a fruit salad that really was pretty if I do say so.

An Evening with Jacob and Bigfoot

Jacob is with me from the time I picked him up at school until toorrow morning--always an event I look forward to. But tonight he came screaming for me and insisted I come back where he was watching TV because it was about Bigfoot and "it's about to get really scary." So I sat on the bed, and he clutched my arm. Mostly it was people talking about hunting for Bigfoot, with occasional brief footage of sightings. I would ask, "Is this scary?" "No, but it's about to be. Don't leave." My pleas that I was hungry and wanted to fix supper, that I had to check the computer list I'm monitoring today, all fell on deaf ears. Finally, I began to sneak away with a promise I'd be right back. I'd get a little done and then go back, only to have him clutch my arm again. And we watched endless discussions about hunting for Bigfoot. Fortunately, he's trained to keep the volume low, and I didn't have my hearing aids in, so I didn't actually have to listen. Last I knew, it's still on.
But he decided he wanted to play in the front yard, so I obligingly took a glass of wine and a book and went to sit on the front porch Then he wanted to go see the tarantula house at Jay and Susan's, which is out of sight. We had a discussion about what he'd do if someone came up to him while I couldn't see him, and he gave all the right answers, but I ended up walking over there with him. I think if there ever was a tarantula there, it's been scared to a new home by all the activity. It became apparent that Jacob's idea of playing in the yard involved showing me endless insects, etc., and I wasn't quite up to a tour. Then we sat on the porch and had a long discussion about hunting and how it's all right to shoot a deer if you plan to eat it, but not if you shoot it just to be shooting it. Jacob seemed to think you coiuld shoot it and whisk it right home to cook, so I tried to explain about dressing and butchering and all that. Not sure I made my point--nor do I think he would eat deer meat. The child doesn't like beef, for goodness sake!
When he was out in the yard tonight, I got little reading done because I was always raising my eyes to make sure I could see him. I live on a busy street, with lots of traffic, and Jacob is never allowed in the front without an adult--nor are the other grandchildren when they visit. Thank goodness for a red shirt that I could see even through the thick green of the youpon tree. But I think tonight a lot of us may be more on edge all over again because of the news in the Etan Platz disappearance. I don't like it when I can't see him. And yet I don't want him to grow up scared. I did that on the South Side of Chicago. There's a fine balance there, but sometimes it's hard to find it.
Bigfoot is over, but there's another "really weird" program on Animal Planet. I said he'd either have to watch it in my office or change channels. I'm a hard-hearted grandma.

Book clubs, mineral rights, and baby kisses

Oooh--I just got back from eating chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes at the Star Cafe, where I used to work. I'd forgotten how good it is--and how full it makes me feel.
This morning I talked to a book club, at the invitatoin of a friend from my church. Ten ladies, including my good friend Betty. I was to talk about my short story collection, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories, which I did but then the conversation veered off into books in general and publishing in detail. The ladies had questions about self-publishing, electronic books, all kinds of things. For me, the conversation was an ego boost. I think that what I do every day is just plain common sense and anyone could do it, but they kept talking about my knowledge of an entirely different world--the books I referred to, the terminology I used, the knowledge I had. And it made me feel good, like "Hey, I really do have an area of expertise!" I am really comfortable and at ease talking to small groups like that where I can perch on a footstool and have a conversation--just don't put me before a podium and a formal audience. These ladies had read the short stories and were enthusiastic about them, asking questions about specific stories and their origins, and so on. I came away feeling good about my career and my storytelling.
Ever since the Barnett Shale was discovered in North Texas, my neighborhood has been in a dither about mineral rights. Companies planned to put a drill pad on 8th Avenue, uncomfortably close to some of my distant neighbors. The neighborhood association urged us to act as a group and wait while a committee, including several lawyers, hammered out an agreement, which they did. It includes a more distant drilling site and a much better signing fee, plus the company donated a nice sum to the neighborhood park that we're building. So we're all set to sign. But today I got a contract from that company, plus one from a company that had not negotiated with the neighborhood and did plan to drill on 8th Avenue but was offering $1,000 more for sign-up (about $250 for most of us). So the dither began again, with a flurry of emails on the neighborhood news. I voiced my opinion that we should stay with the people who listened to our quality of life concerns, and most seemed to agree. But there it is--that uncertainty again. Given my druthers, I'd not sign at all. But I see that as a gesture as futile as spitting in the wind--drilling is inevitable, and if it's going to come anyway I might as well take the signing fee. Yes, it's going to be an enormous boost to the economy of this area--but you can't help worrying about risk and disruption of our peaceful neighborhood. I'm all for progress, but sometimes it's really painful to know which is the right course.
Jordan and Jacob were playing at a friend's house close to me tonight and ran by for a hug because Jordan knows I like to either hug my children or at least talk to them before they leave town. And all of the kids fly to California tomorrow for a weekend with their father. So after I gave Jordan a hug, I called the others. I somehow feel it's important to say, "Be careful, be safe, enjoy." A bonus tonight: Jacob has started giving kisses. He says "MMMmmmm" and puckers his little mouth. So adorable!

On being a grandmother

Wow! Thanks to Charles Rodenberger for telling me that blogger saves drafts. Here's the Monday night post I thought I lost, though it's probably still of interest only to me.

I spent this weekend in Frisco with son Jamie and his famly--well actually they weren't all there. Friday afternoon I had brief glimpses of daughter-in-law Mel and granddaughter Maddie and then they were off to Brownie camp. But four-year-old Edie and I spent much of the weekend together, because her dad had a triathlon Sunday a.m. (He came in 7th in his age group, which is pretty darn good and I'm proud.)

Much of Saturday, for him, was taken up with check-in and all the pre-race stuff. Edie and I played with her dollhouse, sort of read a few books, made blueberry muffins (she has her techinique all figured out for that one, and it's executed on the kitchen floor) and watched the food channel. By the time Daddy came home, we were antsy and a bit tired of each other, I think. But Sunday, the day I knew in advance would be mine, went smoothly. Edie declined to help me fix Norwegian hamburgers and mashed potatoes, but she did snap beans with me--though I discovered she was twisting them. I tried to show her about snapping, and she said, "I'd rather do it my way."

She watched "Meet the Press" (I doubt she got much out of Bill Cosby's thoughts on racism in today's America and what the black community needs to do, though I thought it was really interesting) and then came to me and said she wanted to watch the food channel. So for much of the day that's what we did. When someone made dates stuffed with ricotta, wrapped in bacon, and baked, she said solemnly, "I think I would like that." When I asked if she liked sushi, she said, "Some. I like California roll." A sophisticate at a very young age! And yet she had filled the weekend by giving me a list of the things she doesn't like--an extensive list, including chocolate, though Sunday night I found her happily eating chocolate cake--go figure!

Sunday night we had the dinner I had cooked. Maddie was full of the wonders of her camping trip-a rock with a crustacean in it, a biarre rock that looked painted but wasn't, the copperhead she had seen, the silly song-game she had learned. Everyone was exhausted and there were meltdowns. We all went to bed early.

Today getting home was an endurance contest--we left in plenty of time for the 8:45 train but torrential rains slowed traffic to a standstill and we missed it. I finally took the 10:08 train and was in Fort Worth by 11. A friend picked me up, and we had lunch at a nice bistro. Then I dropped my car off to have the dent repaired where someone hit me and went to pick up a rental--the whole process took nearly two hours, to my dismay. I felt like I'd had all of the day I wanted.

So I have no great new intellectual insights, no literary wonders to report, just that grandmothering is great and four-year-olds can teach you a lot. And then there are the talks I have with Jamie in the car--where I learn a lot about how my kids think and how the world goes. It's pretty great being a grandmother and the mother of neat really nice adults.

Confessions of a grandmother

I live across the street from an elementary school, which can be frustrating at 8:00 a.m. when the parents park across my driveway, stop in the middle of the street to let their children out, and do other foolish and inconsiderate things in their haste to get on with the day. But every year when notices go out about the annual carnival, I say a prayer of thanks that my elementary school carnival days are behind me. So what did I do this weekend? You guessed it--I went to second-grader Maddie's carnival with her, her younger sister, and her daddy.
Melanie, the girls mother, was in California on a girls getaway (much deserved), and Jamie needed someone to watch the girls while he did a sprint triathlon Saturday and again this morning while he biked and ran. So he came and got me, much to my delight. He told me in the car that Edie, the four-year-old, was very excited when she heard I was coming, but Maddie held back. When pressed, she said to her father, "It's kind of lame to walk about the carnival with your grandmother." I knew the day was coming, though maybe not so soon!
It was a good weekend--I went to Maddie's volleyball game (volleyball at that level is NOT an aerobic sport--lots of standing and waiting). We ate out all weekend (though I would have cooked)--Italian, barbecue, Mexican (I came home tonight and had cottage cheese and fresh raspberries for supper).
Saturday was the school carnival, from 3-7 p.m. I paled at the thought of four hours, but we didn't actually get there until 4:30 p.m. Jamie had said it was all outside--another reason for apprehension. I'm not good at hanging out in the sun, even when its only in the 80s. But we spent a good while inside--looking at silent auction gifts, watching while Jamie and Maddie did the cake walk, listening to a wildlife exhibit (really interesting--the speaker had a possum, a vulture,which he said should be the national bird, and a small alligator). Then we went to eat. When I declined anything, Jamie said, "You're no fun." So, in an effort to be fun, I ate a hot dog--and then wished I hadn't. About 6, we went outside to the games--and I opted to sit on a bench, with the book I'd surreptiously stuck in my purse. Two reasons: I don't like walking around on a field, standing while the girls do bouncy houses, etc., and besides, I wanted to spare Maddie the embarrassment. So I was quite content--I'm always content with a book.
Today, we had a lazy Jamie-style day. Just when Jamie got home from his run and ride, the girls were putting on a show for me--Edie dancing with her guitar like a rock star, and Maddie singing from the balcony above (she explained that way Edie would look forward at her and not sideways). I heard they were preparing another show--which delayed our grocery trip--but never saw it and soon they changed out of their costumes. Then we went to lunch and the grocery store (spent two hours there--it's a family tradition for them). We had hyper giggles, followed by the tears that always follow such high jinks--"she bit my finger" and "she stepped on my toe." They finally dropped me off at home at 5:15, and I was glad to be home but reluctant to let go of the weekend, of being with them.
Can I draw significant conclusions from all this trivia? No, except that grandmothering is like everything else--five parts joy to one part frustration. And how do I rate as a grandmother? Sometimes I'm fun, and sometimes I'm a drag. But that's me.
Balance has been a big part of my recent anxiety problem, but I'm glad to report that I walked much more self confidently this weekend, even over the rough and uneven ground between Jamie's house and the school, in the grocery parking lot, up and down curbs. I'm feeling so much better about the world.

Easter

Easter is a wonderful family holiday. I am fully aware of the easy road to losing the spiritual significance of the greatest day of the year in Christianity, and I'm chagrined that I didn't go to church today. Tried to get it on the radio, and they apparently had technical difficulties. The music is always so wonderful, and I missed that greatly. But I've been having anxiety problems lately and going to church alone is hard for me and would be particularly so on Easter. So I settled down (not really--had a bad morning but no one knew but me) and enjoyed having my two oldest granddaughters. Maddie insisted for a while on being alone out in front alone--I live on a through street--and I was astounded at how nervous that made me. I looked every two seconds, afraid that someone would spirit her away. When my kids were little I didn't fear that, but it's a different world.
At almost 8, Maddie still believes in Santa and the Easter bunny--and I find that really really touching. At Christmas, every time she opened a present, she raised her eyes heavenward and said, "Thank you, Santa," which made me think she had a little theological confusion.
Last night, she wrote a note to the Easter bunny, with a place for him to check that he'd read it. (Jamie went to bed without writing a note, but I was pleased that he pulled himself up before the girls awoke and checked the box on the note that he'd read it and wrote a reply note.) Maddie brought it to me: "See, the Easter bunny was here." We convinced her that he had asked Mommy and Daddy to hide the eggs so we could wait for Aunt Jordan and Uncle Christian(when I said maybe he was coming back, she asked skeptically, "Why would the bunny go to the same house twice? He has a lot of houses to visit!). So the girls stayed in "their" room a little before noon, while the adults hid eggs, and then we had a frantic egg hunt. Followed by a big dinner with Uncle Charles, my longtime friend Mary Lu, and my neighbor Sue, whose children were with their father and were sorely missed by Maddie and Edie. Jacob charmed everyone. The girls want to carry him everywhere and love on him all the time, till I'm afraid he'll cry out in frustration, but he remains ever cheerful and flirts with everyone. It was a happy Easter.
And, no, I haven't forgotten the real meaning of the day.