Category Archives: Grandchildren
So, had 2 of the granddaughters last week for a few days on the farm.
One of them caught a cold, and when she sneezed all over me all I could think of was this……
One of my granddaughters is 4, and this is what happens when she gets a hold of her Daddy’s cell phone.
First, she figures out how to get to the text message screen, then she figures out how to find me in the Contact list, and then she starts sending me texts. This kid is brilliant, I tell you, just brilliant.
But, I may be prejudiced. Below is a screenshot of the actual conversation.
You be the judge.
I don’t know, I think it’s rather poetic. Don’t you? Look at how she cleverly inserted an actual word – derided – into the message, and then left me wondering…am I being derided? Did I do something that deserved such an outburst? Or is she simply pondering the condition of man, and his inhumanity to his fellows? Or is it just ‘Ed’? And who is this Ed person anyway?
The kid is a genius.
My family is not normal. Nothing we do is normal. No event is normal. Hell, if we had a “normal” day, that’d be abnormal, so right in line. Even our normal is weird.
Easter egg hunts are not normal at my house. The grandchildren generally get along, the bigger kids help the little ones find eggs, and there is much rejoicing.
The parents, however, are another story. It’s Hunger Games, Easter Egg Hunt at our house. There’s tripping, shoving, misdirection (“Holy shit, you just stepped in pile of dog poo!”), and general foolishness as each parent tries to gain an advantage for their offspring.
In short, they’re a bunch of miscreants. I couldn’t be more proud.
This past Easter’s egg hunt was the same as all the others. The only differences, for me, were 1) for once the yard wasn’t a mudpit as it had been pretty dry all week and 2) I had to watch from afar having smashed the ever-lovin’ shit out of my big toe that morning when I opened the back door to let the dog out and shoved the bottom of the door over the top of my toe. It still hurts like a sonofa….
And then, the Outbreak Monkey arrived.
C’mon, tell me you have seen the scary movie “Outbreak” starring Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo. If not, get thee to a Red Box or Netflix, or something and watch it.
*builds storage shed*
*cures world hunger*
You back already? Good, now I can finish the story.
So, in my family the first person to get sick with whatever is the one we call the Outbreak Monkey. This time, it was my 8-yr. old granddaughter and our first clue was the text her mother sent as they were driving home:
“Aaaand…we have pukage in the van!! AWESOME!”
At 1:00 a.m. the next morning, the poor baby was still puking in her sleep, no less. My daughter called me asking for the magical potion I keep to stop pukages, so instead of sleeping at 1:00 a.m. I was dispensing wizardry in the hopes my sweet granddaughter would stop the pukies. She did, and there was much rejoicing in the land…
….until this morning, when my daughter texted me again and said her other daughter has it now…
We had FIFTEEN people at our house on Easter Sunday. Two are sick, that makes thirteen more to go…except I think I had it already. I think it’s the nasty new norovirus that has been going around and which I got right after Christmas.
At least I hope that’s what this is.
Or, if my daughter is right – as she said in a follow-up text this morning – it only affects kids 8 and under, or as she put it “the very geriatric, like you Mom”.
Age has its advantages.
My kids have suddenly discovered “organic” and “natural” and “raw” diets, and are trying desperately to raise their children like little 19th century ragamuffins. I expect, along with all processed foods, electricity will soon be banned from their homes. That is until it’s elebenty-hunnert degrees all up in here. This is Texas after all.
Hey I’m all for going organic, or orgreenic, or whatever the hell the kids call it these days. It’s just that when I was a kid we called it “go out to the garden and grab a bowlful of beans”, because that’s what we did. And then we had to snap the beans, or shell the peas, or whatever it took to rid the vegetables of the things we weren’t going to eat. Of course, after that the cook (my grandmothers in this case) would make wizardry out of those things and we’d eat till we thought we’d burst.
Anyway, whenever we could we’d run to the nearest store and load up on the foods kids really crave. Like Laffy Taffy, Slo-Pokes, Jolly Ranchers, Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum, and Coke or Pepsi to wash it all down with. Except the bubble gum. It lost its flavor after about four chews, but we hung onto that shit all day; carrying it on the end of our index fingers as we ate or drank, then putting it back in our mouths to chew on getting every last bit of the putty-tasting goodness out of it we could.
Naturally, I figured my grandchildren would run straight to my candy or cookie jar the minute they broke free from the chains of organics their parents shackle them with when they’re not with us.
Boy, was I wrong.
I offered my 6-yr. old granddaughter an Oreo cookie. Manna from heaven if you ask me, but not in her mind….
“Grammy, what are these?”
“Oreos, punkin. Haven’t you ever had an Oreo?”
“Not like these. Are these the organic kind?”
“No, they’re the good kind.” I said, chuckling.
“I don’t think I should eat them. They’re not organic, so they can’t be good for me.”
“So, are you saying that there’s an organic cookie that’s like this but it’s safe to eat because it’s organic, and this one’s not?” I asked, incredulous.
“Let me see the package.”
Mind you, she’s SIX YEARS OLD.
“Okay, “ I said, handing it over to her.
“Hmmm….see?” She said after looking over the ingredients, “It has hydrogen..something. Not good.”
She’s SIX, people.
“You shouldn’t eat them either, Grammy.”
I stared at first her and then the package of cookies.
“You’re probably right.” I said, grabbing a handful and proceeding to dunk.
Has it really been over three weeks since I posted?
And now I don’t have time.
*draws deep breath*
Between now and February I have
12 holiday gifts to make
11 parties to
10 bottles of wine to (ahem) sample
6 geese to stuff
5 golden opportunities to place foot in mouth
4 calls to make
3 french pastries to eat
2 dove bars to inhale when no one’s looking
And a car trip to the country!
I wish I was kidding, but I’m not.
See you sometime in 2015…or sooner if something besides this happens.
I’ll leave you with this from the out-of-context theater of Thanksgiving at my house…
Hubby to 5-yr. old grandson: Do NOT hit people with the gun.
5-yr. old grandson (after a moment’s contemplation): But, I can shoot them, right?
Hubby: Of course. Just don’t hit them.
Merry Chrishanukwanzaabox to all and to all a good night!!
Sometimes a random picture reveals so much….
Two of my precious grandchildren.
An enchanted granddaughter, and her brother the always-in-motion blur just to the left. In one frame, my daughter captures a moment in time – or so she thinks.
What she really captured is the essence of her children, at this particular moment in time.
It’s a rare, magical, perfect moment.
The call from my oldest daughter, K, regarding her oldest daughter, B, (my oldest granddaughter – she’s 8) went like this:
K: Mom? I have a question to ask you.
K: Some of B’s classmates are telling her that the characters in movies like “Frozen” and the fairies in “Tinkerbell” aren’t real. She asked me if that was true, and I stumbled. I didn’t know what to say.
ME: So what did you say?
K: I asked her what she thought.
(ugh…I hate that answer..always have always will…it ranks right up there with, “because I said so” and is about as useful..but I didn’t tell K this)
K: She just shrugged. What would you have told her?
what would I have said…a million things about magic and belief and I’d of gone on and on, just like I did when K asked me these questions a thousand years ago…
ME: I would have said of course those people are real.
K: How do you explain that, when we know they are not real.
ME: Do we?
ME: Do we know, without a doubt, that fairies that help little boys and princesses that freeze things are not real?
ME: Exactly my point. We choose not to believe, and when we do that I think we lose a little bit of the magic in our souls.
K: Oh, mom…this is why I call you.
K: I’m going to have B call you, okay?
Later that afternoon, my phone rings…
B: Hi Grammy.
ME: Hi B, how are you?
B: Fine. Umm, Grammy are Elsa and Anna real?
(my mind races…”Elsa?”…”Anna?”…before I realize they must be the princesses in “Frozen”)
B: Oh…how do you know?
ME: B, the characters in the movies aren’t the ‘real’ fairies, or princesses or what have you. Do you think every ‘Santa’ you see in a movie is the real Santa? Of course not. The real Santa, and the real fairies and princesses are far too busy with important things to take time to make a movie.
B: Then who is in the movie?
ME: The movies are based on these people, but played by actors who spend time with them and study them so they can be realistic.
B: Okay…thanks, bye!
Just like that, the conversation was over and a little bit of magic was restored to a tender soul still wanting to believe.
And, who knows, maybe that little bit of magic spread to an old soul, making her feel the awesomesauce of it all once again.
My oldest daughter loves Halloween.
No, really loves Halloween.
Like over-the-top loves Halloween.
She’s always been like that, too. And her husband? Oh, he’s just as much in love with Halloween as she is.
They take weeks to decorate their house, and win the ‘Best House’ award every year. On Halloween night, people from all over the county load up their cars and trucks, SUVs and mini-vans, all to come visit this one house. She has hundreds of visitors, and many repeat ‘customers’ throughout the night. We turn the entire garage (or yard, depending on the weather) into a haunted house. We’ll have “Jason”, a “Freddy” and always a chainsaw killer.
The whole family pitches in most Halloweens, and we all buy candy. I’ll bet we pass out $300 worth of it at least.
But, even before the trick-or-treating she has a party for all the kids in the neighborhood.
And I do mean all.
So, this before-party is something I’d never been asked to be part of until this year when everyone else bailed on her.
This should probably me my first clue, but I’m clue-less.
A week ago I agreed to help, and then jumped on Pinterest to find peanut-free treats.
You know how you can see something on Pinterest and think “I can do that..” only to have it not work out like the picture?
Well, at least not this time.
(I almost forgot to post the ‘before’ pic of my bat cookies)
So, these are buttery cookies filled with plum jam – you can use any red jam for this – that you then poke holes in to make it look like a vampire bit into them. Theoretically, the jam will run out the holes a bit and look like blood.
Voila!! Vampire Bat Bite Cookies!
And when that doesn’t happen, just enlarge one ‘tooth’ hole and add a little jam with a toothpick to make it look gory.
So, could I do it twice? I mean find another peanut-free treat to make for the party?
Apparently, I can.
These are sooooooo easy. Cut a big marshy-mallow in half (wet the knife, it’ll be easier), dunk the halves in water for a second and then drop into a bag of colored sugar and give it a shake. Top with a drop of green icing for the stem.
I figured two for two was good, so I wasn’t going to try again.
But my oldest is bold and brave….
And so are her kids!
And why do I keep hearing Lloyd Christmas shouting “I GOT WORMS!” in my head?
Yes, those perfectly creepy kids are two of my gran-chillun’ Their mama has instilled the love of all things Halloween-y in them.
I’m very proud.
Also, I want the little guy’s t-shirt.
So have a spook-tacular Halloween, and if you come to my daughter’s house I’m the witch with the long black hair and the creepy cackle.
Don’t get too close, I hear children go good with worms and bloody bats.
I’ll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!