You get what you need when you need it most

What I learned this week

Maybe it was the fact I was home alone this week after spending several busy days with my grandsons last week. Or maybe it's hormones. Or perhaps it's the weather changing. Whatever the reason, I've been off my game for the past several days.

My primary off-game symptom has been feeling kind of down on myself about where I'm headed — or more accurately, not headed — with my writing. Having been a writer of one degree or another for the past few decades, I get that most writers get that way now and again. That's little consolation.

Wednesday, just as I was hitting bottom and frustrating even the dogs with my negative attitude all because I felt like I was writing <cuss> — if I was writing at all — I got an email notification of a new tweet on Twitter that mentioned me. As I was open to doing anything other than staring at a screen of my words that weren't stringing together satisfactorily, I clicked on over to Twitter and found this:

Tears came to my eyes. Seriously. That's how much that tweet meant to me, how much I needed to hear that my words matter, that my words make a difference somewhere, somehow, to someone.

The someone perplexed me. I have no idea who Rosie Kuhn is. I have never interacted with her on Twitter or elsewhere before. She doesn't follow me, I don't follow her. Well, we didn't before Wednesday.

But for some reason my words on being heartbroken when I learned I'd be a grandma resonated with Ms. Kuhn, possibly gave her something she needed. In return, she gave me — a total stranger — what I needed. When I needed it most.

That small tweet from her that meant big things to me was yet another in a long line of moments of late when I've gotten exactly what I needed when I needed it most. Not earthshaking victories of any sort, but confirmation what I need will come.

Because, yes, you get what you need when you need it most.

And you're reminded of that when you most need to remember it.

That is what I learned this week.

PS: I also learned this week that I want to go back to posting on Saturdays, after having taken the weekends off during the summer. Stay tuned for tomorrow's Saturday post, a feature you'll find here every Saturday going forward. I hope you enjoy it!

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

Picture this: An inch of inspiration

Brianna pointed out this inchworm on my porch the other day.

So I grabbed my camera and made the most of the little guy.

I'm doing my best to live life in inches.

Every once in a while I succeed.

Today's question:

Has your week so far been a cinch or has it been hard?

18 things my grandsons miss by not visiting their grandparents

My grandsons haven't visited my house in more than a year. It's been 15 months, to be exact, with no plans to visit in the next... well... I don't know how long. 

Though I'm thrilled to pieces that I'll get to see them soon at their house, there's plenty they miss out on by not visiting PawDad and Gramma at our house. Things found only at our place, things I'm sure they'd enjoy.

Things such as these:

Their special bedroom we call The Boys' Room, despite Bubby having slept in it only a handful of times and Mac having never slept in it — yet...

Exploring our back yard and front...

Playing at the food stand again...

Hunting for treasure PawDad hides in the sand by the waterfall...

And swinging with Gramma in the swing made for three...

Not to forget: the basketball hoop that's just the right height for boys to dunk balls — with a boost from PawDad...

And the bouncy house Bubby and Mac have never even seen — though it delighted other pint-sized friends of Gramma's...

Plus the popcorn machine for treats once the bouncing is done...

And there's Rock Dog and their Glo Worms and lions that stand guard from out front...

Plus, they could play on Gramma's piano (I promise to share)...

And the mini desk where Bubby loves to sort through Granny's nesting frogs...

Beyond Gramma and PawDad's house, there's fun and adventure found just out the door — like ITZ, the North Pole, Pikes Peak and more...

Most of all, though, what my grandsons miss out on more than anything are hugs and kisses and attention from their Colorado family — folks who miss Bubby and Mac to their core...

I truly and wholeheartedly understand that travel with little ones taxes Megan and Preston's body, mind and budget, too. And I do know Bubby and Mac will eventually get to visit Gramma and PawDad's house. Eventually.

I just hope it's before my grandsons reach the age that what they'll most enjoy about Gramma and PawDad's house is having a beer at our patio bar.

Even then, though, I'd be delighted to have Bubby and Mac visit our house.

Today's question:

What did you most enjoy about visiting your grandparents' house when you were a child?

Two things I wish I had learned this week

Funny how children can make it crystal clear the extent of things we parents don't know. Even adult children —perhaps even more so our adult children — shed light on the knowledge we lack.

It took the briefest of conversations with Megan this week to make it clear that I've got some learning to do, especially as it relates to two particular situations.

The first thing I wish I had learned this week:
Megan called me a few nights ago to, among other things, express her distress about the manner in which some folks were acting upon the death of a community member. We both agreed that it gets our panties in a bunch when people who were never close to an individual in life muddle about in various states of dithering and distress upon that person's passing, wearing their pain and sadness at the loss of the relatively distant acquaintance as if they had known the deceased dearly, thus justifying their excessive funereal attentions.

That's annoying. And it's so very wrong as it undervalues the pain of those who were intimate with the one who has passed. And it makes you want to shake such individuals for turning heartbreaking situations into being about them, Megan and I agreed. We also agreed in frustration that there needs to be an accurately descriptive word for that behavior that bothers us so.

A later search online for such a word came up with zilch — mostly because how do you search for something you don't know how to describe... which is exactly the reason you're searching?

A word or phrase for such behavior (funeral mongering? faux mourning?) is the first thing I wish I had learned this week. But I didn't.

Intrigued by Gramma's iPhone

The second thing I wish I had learned this week:
Though Megan's phone call to me began with what I noted above, her main reason for calling centered around the fact that Bubby has started taking things that are not his. I guess you could call it stealing. But do 5-year-old kids understand the concept of stealing when they pocket toys and trinkets from others at school and hide them under the covers in their bed? Well, I suppose when put that way, it does kind of seem like stealing.

But that's not what I wanted to learn. After Megan told the tale of Bubby's infractions and subsequent discipline, Megan and I discussed how frustrating it is to discipline a child and have the end result be that though the child may apologize for his or her actions, they show no remorse. It makes you want to shake some sense into them, we agreed. What good is an apology with no remorse?

More importantly, how do you teach remorse? How do you get a kid to truly and honestly feel bad about his bad behavior? Not ashamed, just... remorseful.

Megan asked me what I did when she and her sisters were young when I caught them stealing. To be honest, I could offer only one half memory of dealing with Brianna (I think it was her) nabbing a package of gum once when we were grocery shopping. I made her hand it to the cashier and apologize for taking it. And I kind of, sort of, halfway recall her showing remorse for her bone-headed bungled attempt at thievery.

I racked my brain trying to recall how I managed to get a little remorse out of my gum-nabbing daughter, yet I had no answer. I couldn't offer Megan advice or tips or sage stories of instilling remorse in a 5-year-old kid because, to be honest, I think I just lucked out in that area.

How I could pass along that luck to Megan is the second thing I wish I had learned this week. But I didn't.

Perhaps next week I'll learn the things I wish I had learned this week.

Or perhaps I'll learn the answers to both today... courtesy your comments on my ignorance.

Perhaps?

Update on my sister: There's actually a third thing I wish I had learned this week and that would be the date my sister — who's still on the ICU floor at the hospital in Denver — might return home. Debbie continues to have issues related to her diagnosed pulmonary arterial hypertension, continues to confound doctors with those issues. I did learn she's improved in many respects, though, the learning of which makes the things I didn't learn matter far less.

Enjoy your weekend!

Today's question:

What did you learn — or not learn — this week?

Celebrating no celebrations

For my oldest daughter's first birthday, I went all out. I recruited my mom to make a fancy birthday cake with adorable clowns o' frosting a la the Wilton Cake Decorating Cookbook, invited everyone with even the slightest interest in my daughter, packed our tiny apartment with well wishers and gifts galore.

It was the very best birthday party ever.

Until the next year, that is. And until the next child, too — two more of which arrived in rapid succession. Followed by two more first birthdays in equally rapid succession.

With that very first first birthday party for my very first daughter more than 31 years ago, I had set a precedent: Birthday parties in my house would be a big deal. Not expensive, for money was tight as could be considering we were a young family with three children birthed in a three-year span. But the birthday parties would certainly be festive. Each and every time.

Birthdays for my daughters were celebrated at home — no parties at pizza places, skating spaces or swimming pools. Each party had a specific theme chosen by the honoree, with homemade cakes, homemade favors for guests to bring home, homemade fun packaged in such a manner my daughters (hopefully) never realized their special days were celebrated at home because we couldn't afford the party packages offered by the fancy-schmancy peddlers of commercialized fun.

Fun as they were for the birthday girls and guests, that homemade packaging was exhausting for Mom. That would be me — the family party planner bound and determined to make memorable birthday moments for my daughters, come hell or high water, heaven help us all.

One birthday season when I was knee-deep in pre-party prep and freak-out fare — at this point I can no longer recall whose birthday or what theme — my own mom, in hopes of assuaging my stress, advised me, "You don't have to make every single birthday special, Lisa."

I disagreed vehemently... but silently, as I had too much to do, no time to argue my point. But, yes, I did have to make every single birthday special. Because there are so very few that parents get to celebrate with a child. Sixteen or so, if we're lucky, if friends don't win out over family sooner than that.

So I did my best to make birthday celebrations special.

I did my best to make holiday celebrations special, too. Everything from Valentine's Day on through New Year's Day featured special traditions and rituals, special food, special decorations and sometimes even special music. As was the case with our birthday celebrations throughout the childrearing years, our holiday celebrations were never expensive but they were festive. And memorable. And the stuff our family was made of.

And they were exhausting for Mom. That would be me, the holiday planner bound and determined to make memorable holiday moments for my daughters, come hell or high water, heaven help us all.

Little did I realize then how very few holidays I'd have to celebrate with my entire clan. I thought that even once the nest emptied, every child-turned-adult would flock home to celebrate the seasons with Mom and Dad, spouses and offspring in tow.

I've since realized how wrong that idea. Thankfully, though, how right it turned out to be that I did do the best I could each and every holiday while my girls lived at home. Because there were so few of those, too.

The big shebangs had their place, their heyday, but now the celebrations are smaller, in scope and in attendance. Celebrations take less work, yet they still require work.

That required work for birthday and holiday celebrations — exhaustive overloads in the past, minor smidgens today —  is one reason fall has long been my favorite time of year. The months of September and October, to be exact. Because during the months of September and October there isn't a single birthday, a single holiday I'm expected to celebrate. Nothing to plan or purchase or poke-my-eye-out-with-a-hot-poker-because-I-need-a-freakin'-break-from-special-celebrations sort of nonsense. None.

See, as much as I love my family and would now indeed poke my eye out to have them around again for family celebrations and to occasionally fill my (occasionally heart achingly) empty nest, I also love down time. Quiet time. Uneventful time. Time such as September 1 through October 30. Time with no celebrations. No celebrations is, for me, reason enough to celebrate.

True to my character, my past, my family-party-planning-personality, of course, I plan to make that celebration of no celebrations as absolutely special and memorable as possible.

By doing ab-so-lute-ly nothing.*

Happy No-Celebration season to you and yours! May it be everything you hoped it would be. And everything you hoped it would not be, too.

*Well, nothing related to celebrations, that is. The need for speed in securing income remains.

Today's question:

When is the biggest span of time with no birthdays/holidays/celebrations in your family?

Helping boys cope plus GRAND Social No. 70

I have three daughters. Lifting them up and doing all I could to help them cope with getting through girlhood on their way to womanhood was always top of mind for me as a mother. For decades, it seemed the concerns of girls and the issues they face were top of mind not just for myself and other mothers of girls but for society as a whole.

In the meantime, boys and their equally scary and scarring issues fell through the cracks. I never really considered the depth of despair mothers of boys might be going through while we mothers of girls had research and support of all sorts to help us muddle our way through raising our daughters.

Now that I have grandsons, though, I do consider the plight of boys. Fortunately society as a whole seems to be considering such things a bit more of late, too.

I recently learned of a new book that, though I've not yet read it, seems to me like one everyone — parents and grandparents of boys and girls — should look into. I've added it to my must-read list after seeing the trailer last week. I was so alarmed by the stats on boys that I felt compelled to share the trailer with you.

Take a look:

(Masterminds & Wingmen on Vimeo.)

This isn't a sponsored post nor is it a review of Masterminds & Wingmen. I simply think we all should find out more about how to lift up our sons and grandsons and help them cope in their journey from boyhood to manhood. This book might shed light on how to do that. If you know of other resources that could further make a difference for boys, feel free to share in the comments. And if you read Masterminds & Wingmen, I'd love to know what you think.

I'd also love to see you participate in GRAND Social No. 70 — by either sharing a link, reading the links of those who share or both. Let's dive in!

How it works:

• All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, just be a grandparent who blogs.

• To link up a post, copy the direct URL to the specific post — new or old — that you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue button marked with "Add your link" below and follow the directions.

• You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites, please.

• Adding a mention such as This post linked to the GRAND Social to your linked posts is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button anywhere on your page using the following code:

<a href="/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

• The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.


• If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. Bloggers who link up would be honored to have one and all — other bloggers as well as readers — visit, read and, if so moved, comment, even if just a "Hey, stopping by from the GRAND Social."

• For another grandparent linky, visit Connie's Grandparent's Say It Saturday Link Party each Saturday.

What I learned this week: Keeping the browns and the blues at bay

I love avocados. Jim hates avocados. So any avocados I buy are mine and mine alone to enjoy.

Because I usually only eat half an avocado at a time — in sandwiches, salads and so forth — the second half that I save for later often turns brown while sitting in the fridge waiting for me to nosh on it.

Not anymore.

This week I learned that if you lightly spray the cut avocado with cooking spray, it doesn't turn brown.

Seriously.

Pictorial proof is here:

The other day, I ate half an avocado on a sandwich at lunch time. I lightly sprayed the other half and stuck it in a baggie (bagging it loosely instead of having it touch the avocado flesh, just to see if the cooking spray really did work).

 

Five hours later I pulled the avocado half from the fridge to slice up for a dinner salad. It looked like this once released from its bag:

 

See? I kept the browns at bay, thanks to cooking spray. Easy-peasy.

Keeping the blues at bay isn't as easy-peasy, I learned this week.

As many of you know, my sister has been hospitalized for more than two weeks now. Yesterday she was moved from ICU to a regular floor. There was even talk she might get to go home in a day or so.

Hooray!

Just a few hours after my sister called with the good news, I got another phone call, one informing me my sister was back in ICU. She'd suffered another coughing/bleeding/nearly heart-stopping episode and had been returned to the unit where they could care for her best.

The blues instantly set in for many of us.

If only cooking spray could keep the blues away from hearts and minds as well as it keeps the browns from avocados.

That is what I learned this week.

May your weekend be grand, your browns and blues easily cured... or avoided in the first place.

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?