Ornaments of Christmases past

At tree-trimming time every Christmas, I gave each of my three daughters a new ornament, beginning when they were all still quite small. Some years the ornaments given reflected a passion or hobby of each individual girl; other years, all three received similar ornaments with only a slight variation on a common theme. Every year, all were dated and hung upon the family tree.

With three new ornaments added for the girls each year plus a new one for Jim and myself annually, too, our Christmas tree became jam-packed with ornaments by the time the girls were ready to leave the nest. The paring down of the baubles was far more abrupt than the collecting. First it was Megan's collection that we wrapped up and sent with her once she became a newlywed. Next, Andrea moved up and out and on, taking her ornaments with her. Then, just a few years ago, Brianna and her seasonal stash found a new home, as well.

Now that Jim and I decorate our tree with many old ornaments of our own, plus nearly just as many new ornaments to take the place of those relocated to our daughters' Christmas trees, it's been especially heartwarming this past week while visiting my grandsons to see many of the familiar ornaments of Christmases past hanging on Megan's tree. Not only those I had given her through the years, but ones she had made herself or received from others, too.

 

Equally heartwarming to see hung in a place of prominence at Megan's house was an advent calendar I had made for my daughters many years ago, now providing a chocolate-y countdown to Christmas for my grandsons.

It's bittersweet to see old, familiar seasonal decor adorning a home so far removed from mine, in years and in geography. Every once in a while during this visit, I've been hit with the overwhelming realization that things will never go back to what they were, that time has indeed ticked along, those days are gone, and this is where we as a family are, what we will be from now on. Not that I didn't realize that—or be okay with that—already, but the confirmation of such sometimes comes in unexpected and occasionally uncomfortable waves. No more kids' ornaments hanging on the tree was and is just the beginning...and the end.

That serves as the bitter. The sweet? Seeing the enjoyment my grandsons now get pulling foiled Santas and chocolate balls from the very same crudely numbered pockets their mom and aunts once did, counting the days until Santa's arrival. Days that to a child move far too slowly. Days that to a mom—and now a grandma— moved far too fast and somehow, without proper notice, became years.

Today's question:

What holiday ornaments have you passed down to your children?

Water woes

On Saturday, I got an infinitely small taste of what some of those affected by Hurricane Sandy have gone through and, in some cases, are still going through.

The day started as most any other Saturday, meaning I had a huge to-do list, especially considering the many gifts I'm making for Christmas. I did a little here, a little there, and by about 10:30 that morning, I went out to the garage to do some painting projects I had lined up for the day. I figured I'd get the painting done then clean the cats' litter boxes before taking my shower for the day.

So I painted away. Around noon, just as I headed into the house  to wash off the black and brown paint covering my hands (and the lubricant I'd sprayed all over them to help with removing the paint from my hands), Jim met me halfway to say water was flowing like a river in the street in front of our house—and there was absolutely no water on tap inside the house.

Apparently a water main had burst. Jim and I—both of us unshowered—joined the neighbors in the street to hem and haw about the wasted water that could have gone to good use on our drought-stricken trees. Water that would have done a world of good for my paint-and-lubricant-covered hands, too.

As the wait for utility crews to arrive and repair the broken main was long and uneventful, I headed back inside to do what I could to clean my hands and eliminate what I could from my to-do list. Soon Jim followed and we set to work putting up the majority of our Christmas decorations.

Time ticked on and by dinner time, still no water. With no way to make dinner without water, Jim ventured out to pick up Taco Bell. We used wet wipes to wash our hands before touching our tacos, but at least the repair crews had arrived and were hard at work. Even as daylight was gone, they toiled away.

Time continued ticking on...and on...and on.

And the utility crews continued working...and working...and working.

By 9 p.m., the big guns had arrived. Big trucks with big equipment, including big lights. They dug big holes and carried big pipes.

All the while, I sat on my big butt in front of my big window with my big camera in hand, documenting their work late into Saturday night.

 

Soon after midnight, the clean-up crews were scooping up the last of the dirt. The water was on. Hallelujah!

By 1 a.m. Sunday, everyone was gone.

Until Sunday afternoon, that is, when a few of the neighbors dropped by to check out the street repairs.

I think they were impressed. I know I certainly was. Not only with the repair crew, but even more so with the folks affected by Hurricane Sandy now that I'd had an infinitesimal smidgen of a sampling of what they endured for many, many more hours than I did.

Today's question:

When did you last endure a utility service outage (water, gas, or electric)?

Photo replay: The child that was

"For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be." ~John Connolly

 

My youngest and my oldest on Thanksgiving Day. With every visit it gets harder to see the adorable child each once was in the lovely women they've become.

Today's question:

In which of your children is it most difficult to see the child that once was?

To give or receive? Which one I prefer and why

News flash: It's far better to give than to receive!

Okay, that's not really a news flash. We've all heard the adage again and again. Many of us even agree with it.

I'm one of those who agree. I thoroughly enjoy giving gifts of any sort—time, service, something tangible of varying dollar amounts—to those I care about. This holiday season, most of the gifts I'll be giving will be handmade by me. Not because I'm uber crafty like so many other grandmas, but because after years and years of telling my family, "Okay, things are tight this year so Christmas is going to be smaller than usual," this year it really will be smaller than usual. The smallest ever, in fact, at least in terms of money spent.

All I want to add about that is Hallelujah for Pinterest! I'm so thankful the latest and greatest in social media has removed the stigma from presenting homemade presents. Or so I'm counting on regarding the gifts I'll be wrapping up and placing under the Christmas tree.

So, I like giving things, making things, presenting presents of varying awesomeness to my loved ones. Without a doubt, I prefer the giving far more than the receiving.

It's not only for the obvious reasons, though. While I love giving gifts, I'm not an incredibly selfless, altruistic person who wants nothing more than to give and give and give without ever getting in return. I like getting stuff. I like when someone has thoughtfully considered what might please me, make me smile, warm my heart.

The part I don't like is the pressure to make sure the one presenting me with a gift knows to their very core that I am indeed happy as a clam with what they've given. I'm not good at that part. I don't whoop nor holler nor scream in delight upon opening a gift. Even if it's something I have yearned for, begged for time and again. Not even when it's something special I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd receive (think DSLR camera from Jim last Christmas, an original The Eloping Angels from him many years before).

I sincerely appreciate every single gift ever given to me and every single gift that just might come my way in the future. I think it's the giving part of me, though, that really throws a wrench in the whole receiving part of the gifting tradition. Primarily because I want to give in return exactly the response the giver hopes to see from me. And, as I mentioned, I suck at that. No matter how much or in how many different ways I try to express that I lovelovelove whatever it may be and how thrilled I am it was given to me, I always feel I fail at being exuberant enough, loud enough in my thanks and hoorays.

And I hatehatehate that kind of pressure because I don't want to let down anyone who gives me anything.

My family—bless them, each and every one—continues to give me gifts, despite my neuroticism. They know me well enough, have seen enough Christmas mornings when I wasn't whooping and hollering, to understand I express my thanks and appreciation differently. Quietly. Sometimes with tears. In fact, it's become a bit of a game in my family to see whose gift will make Mom cry.

Which, alas, only adds more pressure. (See? Neurotic.)

I don't look forward to such pressure come the exchanging of Christmas gifts. I do, though, look forward to giving my homemade gifts to my loved ones. For it is indeed—to neurotics such as myself, as well as to selfless, altruistic folk—far better to give than it is to receive.

Sometimes and for some people, it's just the easier thing to do.

Today's question:

What percentage of your holiday gifts will be homemade this year?

Grandma's snafu and some Fun.

Yesterday I posted the One-Word Wednesday post, with the one word being neighbors. It should have been snafu, for that's what my Wednesday turned out to be: one big snafu.

I typically write my blog posts the day before they're posted. But after spending the majority of Wednesday sitting at the hospital, not having taken a shower nor eaten except for two slurps of oatmeal as I headed out the door in a rush, creative and like writing are words the very furthest from what might describe how I felt after inhaling the last piece of pumpkin pie and finally jumping in the shower at 5 p.m. That's P.M.

Bottom line: I didn't feel like writing this post.

What I felt like, no, what I needed, was a little fun. Fun to counteract the day-long snafu.

Fortunately it's fairly easy to find such things online, and I quickly found the following Fun.—with a capital F and a period at the end:

That's not the Fun. I originally set out to share (I do so enjoy the band), but once I stumbled across that song, the message to carry on fit more perfectly than the other Fun. I had in mind.

A final note: Do know that I'm fine, my family is fine, everyone is fine. Wednesday was just a sucky, snafu of a day.

Also know—especially those who may think once the kids leave home it's all fun of the lower-case sort for parents in an empty nest—you will always be a parent, always be the one called when they're scared, always be the one to help when asked or needed, even when it makes for one heck of a non-fun, non-productive snafu of a day.

Carry on...!

Today's question:

What kind of fun do you prefer after a snafu of a day?

Merry melee making

If you refrained from chasing shopping deals this morning, you—like I—surely missed out on merry making similar to these scenes from last year's Black Friday celebration:

If you didn't refrain and awoke early to elbow your way among the crowds, I tip my hat to you. You're a far braver shopper than I.

Curious minds want to know, though: Those of you who indulged in Black Friday shopping, did you encounter scenes like those in the video? Or did the Thanksgiving Day/Evening store openings put a dent in the Black Friday morning crowds?

Cheers—I think—to the official opening of the holiday shopping season!

Today's question:

What percentage of your holiday gift list have you completed, whether buying or making the gifts?

These are a few of my favorite (Thanksgiving) things

What do you love most about Thanksgiving?

Sodahead, an opinion-based community, recently asked its members exactly that, then made a nifty infographic of the answers. Here are some highlights of the results:

 

 

The full Sodahead infographic on Thanksgiving favorites can be found here.

Sodahead never asked me about my favorites, but here are a few of them:

• Tops is spending time with my family. Many years we've taken a trip to South Dakota to spend the holiday with Jim's extended family. Two years ago, our entire family celebrated in the desert, with Megan and Preston hosting. Most years, though, have meant a houseful of people, with extra chairs and table leaves (sometimes extra tables) added in my dining room. This year, for a variety of reasons, will be our smallest Thanksgiving ever. Jim and I will spend it at home, with our youngest and oldest daughters as our only guests. To be honest, I'm kind of looking forward to the intimacy of such a low-key, low-stress gathering.

• As far as food goes, I must say that mashed potatoes with lots of turkey gravy is one of my all-time favorite foods, and not just at Thanksgiving. But as the nest has emptied and mashing potatoes doesn't happen often around here anymore, I definitely look forward to those made at Thanksgiving.

• In addition to the mashed potatoes, I truly love my cheesy corn casserole. And pumpkin pie. And this year I'm going to try out a new addition to the dessert selections—a cranberry-apple cobbler which will likely become a fast favorite.

• Favorite things to do on Thanksgiving, other than eating? I particularly enjoy baking the day before. And on Thanksgiving day, I used to enjoy watching bits and pieces of the parades with my little girls. Not anymore, as my little girls are now big and no longer around at parade time. I do still love watching the performance of The Rockettes in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade—if I remember to turn on the TV in time.

• I also love gathering around the table and giving thanks before the meal. We always say grace at dinner in my house, but I get especially verklempt when doing so on Thanksgiving. (Sheesh...I'm getting verklempt and teary just writing this.) Because every year, no matter how freakin' difficult the year has been—and let me tell ya, this last one has been a doozy beyond compare—there is so, so much I'm thankful for, so many blessings that make my life full in ways I never imagined, ways that make up for those not-so-blessed moments. I love giving thanks for those...and listening to what others around the table are thankful for, too. One good thing about this year's smaller gathering: The thank yous and amens should be completed before the food has gotten cold.

• A new favorite: Last year, Jim and I established a Thanksgiving tradition all our own. With there typically being so many pies to choose from after Thanksgiving dinner, we decided last Thanksgiving morning that our breakfast should be the pumpkin pie I had made. I'm pretty sure pumpkin pie has never tasted sweeter. I look forward to us doing that again this year.

• This year we'll try another new activity: going to a movie—Lincoln—after stuffing our tummies with turkey and trimmings.

Other things I love about Thanksgiving: a fire in the fireplace, delectable scents wafting through the house from early morning til late at night, the stillness of the holiday as work and worries of the everyday are put on hold.

Bottom line: I love pretty much every little thing about Thanksgiving. Well, everything except getting the leftover turkey off the bone and bagged up for leftovers.

Oh! Speaking of leftovers, I also love turkey sandwiches the next day, with lots of salt and mayo (not Miracle Whip!).

Today's question:

What are a few of your favorite Thanksgiving things?

Grandparenting as a second chance: 15 things I'd do this time around

Some grandmas and grandpas consider being a grandparent their second chance at parenting, their opportunity to do things right, do things forgotten.

Not me. I don't see my time as Gramma being a do-over for my time as Mom. I've already had the headache, hassle, heartache of being a parent. I'm happy now to enjoy my time with my grandchildren without feeling the need to make good on all the things I neglected, all the ways I screwed up with my children. For one thing, there's no way to make up for what was—with those kids or with the kids of those kids.

If it were, though, if being a grandparent really did provide an opportunity for do-overs, here are a few things I'd do better the second time around:

• Go on more family bike rides.

• Complete a doll house for the girls. Boys, too, if they wanted one.

• Be more adamant about flossing.

• Allow them to order dessert now and then when dining out. Or an appetizer, instead of saying the budget's too tight for either.

• Teach them to sew, regardless of their gender.

• Not allow them to quit musical instruction, be it band, choir, guitar lessons.

• Not allow them to quit sports mid-season, either.

• On the other hand, I'd be more adamant about them quitting bad relationships sooner.

• Take them camping as teens, even if they didn't want to go. Once they got out in the boonies, they'd surely appreciate the s'mores, stories, and sky of endless stars regardless of their protests from home.

• Go on more picnics. And Sunday drives, with no particular destination, agenda, goal.

• Buy them each a camera at a younger age. (A far easier consideration now that the cost of developing photos is no longer a factor.)

• Allow more slumber parties. Though not co-ed, as seems currently in fashion.

• Sing more.

• Hug more.

• Remember more.

Today's question:

What would you do differently if given parenting do-overs?

It's official: I'm a cool grandparent

As a teen, I pored over personality quizzes that might better tell me who I was and what I wanted—those ever-so-important things that I simply could not figure out for myself. If I circled the right number of As or Bs or ALL OF THE ABOVEs, the super-scientific methodology would make me feel good about myself while directing me to the places in need of improvement. Or so I hoped.

As a young wife and mother, I continued to want—no, need—validation through personality and relationship quizzes offered in magazines ranging from Redbook to Parents. In between diapering, bathing, feeding and surviving, I took quizzes any time I came across them. I even bought books—one a hardcover, if you can believe it!—of quizzes to help me figure out me, myself, and I.

COOL GRANDMAS LET GRANDSONS LICK THE BOWLApparently I've not outgrown the need for quiz-based validation, not even as a grandma. For when I saw that friend and fellow grandma Susan posted on her Grandparents.About.com website a What's Your Grandparenting Style quiz, I couldn't click my way there quickly enough.

I'm now older and a wee bit wiser than the quiz-taking adolescent or young mother I once was. So I kept my enthusiasm in check, resolved to remain blasé about what I might find and what the quiz may reveal. I skeptically assumed the quiz would be three or four questions followed by a designation along the lines of "You are the best kind of grandma ever, the kind who loves your grandbaby sweetie bugs to death and they love you totally and completely in return."Such a generic result would be not only a cop-out but a disappointment.

I was happy to see—and should have known to begin with—that Susan was better than that. She offered up a fairly in-depth questionaire. Sure, it wasn't a Myers-Brigg type psychological test by any stretch of the imagination. Questions, though, were many and ran the gamut from one's gifting style to what kind of grandma attire she might wear on to how disciplinary action may be taken on a trash-can-toppling grandson.

COOL GRANDMAS MAKE UP TRAMPOLINE GAMESI thoughtfully considered each question, then went with my gut in answering, just as any long-time personality quiz-taker has learned provides the most accurate results. (No more adolescent manipulation of the outcome by guessing which answers provide desired results rather than the reality.) Once I made it through the fourteen questions, each with six possible answers, I braced myself for the outcome, hoping for confirmation that I'm doing the right thing as a grandma while also providing a few unexpected revelations on where I rock and where I need to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Now, I don't want to incite the crowd, create jealousy where none should be, so I'm a tad reluctant to share my results. In my quest to be a transparent blogger, though, I must honestly and completely reveal the outcome. On one hand, it's what I expected. On the other hand...well... Oh, hell, I cannot lie. It's what I expected. Sort of. After decades of self-test taking, how could I not know how this one might turn out.

Still, it made me smile. For this, my friends, is the official word on my grandparenting style:

What's Your Grandparenting Style?

You're a Cool Grandparent!

You are not the stereotypical grandparent. For one thing, you're totally at ease with technology. You're likely to be young in years, but you are definitely young at heart. You love movies, music, video games and other diversions that you can share with your grandchildren once they get old enough. You're not really into baking, knitting or gardening, and you're not a great fan of family history. You're more interested in living in the here and now, and your grandchildren will appreciate that.

Did they hit it on the head or what?

Sure, they missed on the baking, for I do indeed love to bake. And gardening, well, I'm trying and will get it one of these years, for sure. But I'll just figure gardening—and the need to become a more avid fan of my freaky family history—as the places needing improvement I hoped would be pointed out to me.

Despite those minor misses, confirmation and validation came in spades. Or at least came in the first three sentences of my results. For proof, check out my About page here on my blog. A quick scan of it and you'll see that the Granparent.About.com quiz is no slouch. It turned out to be fairly accurate. At least in my case.

What about in yours? Take the quiz for yourself and see. I hope you'll come back here afterward and report your grandparenting style. I promise not to be jealous.

For I'm cool like that. And I have the quiz results to prove it.

Today's question:

When did you last take a quiz in a magazine or online?

One-word Wednesday: Abandoned

Today's question:

What hobby or interest have you abandoned but hope to return to soon?