A good sport

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I believe I've mentioned before that as a mother, I never wanted boys. I'm far too overprotective and far too not interested in sports to have raised a healthy and happy son. I know that, accept that about myself.

Sure, Jim would have helped out, but being much like me and more into sedate activities such as enjoying music and movies and being a spectator of sports more so than a participant, together we likely would have squelched a free-spirited and energy-filled boy.

That said, though, I'm absolutely thrilled to have grandsons. And I'm absolutely delighted that Preston has proved himself to be the ideal dad for high-energy and sports-minded Bubby (as will likely be the case with Mac as he grows, too).

Preston has the time, patience, athletic ability, and inclination for doing the dad-like things a growing boy needs.

Preston chases Bubby around the splash pad, eliciting squeals from Bubby that "the water monster" is after him:

Preston teaches Bubby the correct way to hold the bat and encourages hard hits from the little leftie:

And he regularly gets Bubby out and about for bike rides around the block — with Preston walking running alongside quite a bit of the way:

Of course, bike rides and batting practice must take place late in the evening when you live in the desert heat (hence the dark photos), which means Preston deserves all the more props for doing such things after working all day.

I gotta hand it to him. Preston's exactly the kind of dad Bubby and Mac need.

But he also comes in pretty handy in other ways, ways that I personally appreciate and benefit from.

For starters, he gets points for squashing the scorpion that tried to crash Mac's baptism party:

And — with Megan's fruit-chopping assistance — he whipped up a refreshingly tasty sangria as part of the baptism celebration refreshments:

Yep, Preston's an all-around athletic, scorpion-squishing, sangria-serving, delightful, loved, and appreciated member of our family.

I think we'll keep him.

Today's question:

Fill in the blank: Three ingredients that make up a good dad are ___________, ___________, and ________. (Don't wanna talk dads? Feel free to substitute "sangria" for "dad".)

Repost: Hearts grow on

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In light of the recent arrival of my second grandbaby, Megan's second son, I thought I'd republish this post I wrote nearly a year before Mac was seriously considered. As I watch Megan care for and cuddle her precious Baby Mac (that's him below, cooing), it's clear my advice to her stood firm and that her heart did indeed grow on.

Hearts grow on (originally published August 3, 2009)

After Megan read my post on GRAND magazine, the one featuring a fake cover-model Bubby, we had yet another discussion of how friggin' cute that boy is. Megan had been deeply concerned during her pregnancy that her newborn would be cursed with a freakishly oversized nose since she and Preston have, in her mind, fairly prominant schnozzes. (She's exaggerating; their noses look pretty normal to me.) The many ultrasounds Megan had during the pregnancy -- ultrasounds totally unrelated to the nose worries -- seemed to only confirm her fears. So when Bubby came out marvelously perfect, his perfection became a continual source of amazement for her.

In our most recent discussion, Megan commented on how Baby #2, planned for sometime in the next year or so, has a lot to live up to and better arrive pretty darn wonderful. It goes back to many of our previous discussions regarding her concerns that she just doesn't know how she'll love another child as much as she loves Bubby. How can she, she wonders, when her heart just explodes with the pure love and joy she feels for what has become the love of her life? (Sorry, Preston.)

I remember thinking the same thing when I learned I was pregnant with my second child -- the child who turned out to be Megan. I loved my little Brianna, my #1 baby,  with every fiber of my being and I worried I might be neglectful of Baby #2 because he/she could never live up to the incredible little bundle of joy named Brianna. Didn't happen, though. Megan was just as amazing as Brianna, but in, thankfully, very different ways. I loved them both beyond words.

When Baby #3 made her presence known, I was certain it couldn't possibly happen again. That there's no way in my dysfunctional heart, mind and soul, that I really could be the kind of person who would love and adore yet another little one -- especially a little one guaranteed to throw off the balance of the home and life Jim and I had created. We were a family of two babies and two parents, each parent having two hands so we could manage the girls on our own, when necessary. There were four chairs to our little table that perfectly seated all of us. Our trusty Ford Maverick had just enough room in the back for two car seats. How in the world would I equally love Baby #3 when she was discombobulating the domestic scene we'd thus created?

But three is a charm. Unbelievably, I loved Andrea (my little Andie) as much as I did Megan and Brianna. And I still do. All three of my precious babies continue to be lovely and amazing in ways that are so very different from one another, yet very much the same in my heart. I honestly love each one more than anything else in the world. Seems impossible, but it's true.

So, Megan, you won't love Bubby more than the next baby, or the next one ... or even the next one, if you and Preston happen to be that crazy blessed. Like your mom, you'll just get a bigger table and you'll buy a bigger car. All the while, your heart will become bigger and bigger, making it possible to love each one equally, each for very different reasons.

And you'll quickly learn that, despite all the bunk in romance novels and chick flicks, there's more than just one love of your life. Especially when you're a mom.

Today's question:

One of the more valuable bits of advice from my mother was __________.

Back in my day

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I had my youngest baby, Andrea, nearly 26 years ago. Listening to Megan talk about pregnancy, labor, and newborn care, it's clear there have been some important — and some not-so-important — changes in the whole process since back in my day.

newborn mac.jpg

Back sleeping: Back in my day, pregnant women generally slept on their back. Or at least I did. Apparently sleeping on one's back during pregnancy is a big no-no. Something about pressure on the spine, circulation problems, hemorrhoids and drops in blood pressure. Plain and simple, it's not good for Mom, it's not good for baby, say the experts.

Ultrasounds: Back in my day, parents-to-be didn't automatically receive baby-in-utero photos to show grandparents, friends, and strangers. Ultrasounds were typically only done in emergency situations, and you didn't get a souvenir photo after the process. Nowadays there are a series of ultrasounds and a series of pictures, starting with those in which the babies are unrecognizable blobs. Megan and Preston announced their first pregnancy to Jim and me with a framed photo of a Bubby blob. And the pregnancy yielding Baby Mac was announced to the family via a text message photo. (Although, the photo being of a blob and all, Jim actually thought it was a B&W photo of Megan's carved Jack-o-Lantern, not our second grandson.)

Sprinkles: Back in my day, new mothers were given a baby shower to honor Mom and outfit baby and nursery. With the first baby, that is. Second babies and second-time moms weren't celebrated in such a fashion. Consensus was that it just seemed wrong to solicit more gifts when Mom should have hand-me-downs from the first. Nowadays, second-time (and third- and more-time) moms still don't usually get repeat showers, but they do get "sprinkled." It's a lighter version of the full baby shower, I'm told, more of a sponge-bath o' love from the closest friends and family.

Strep B: Back in my day, mothers were tested for various things upon learning they were pregnant. I can't remember exactly what those things were (like I said, that was 26 years ago), but I'm pretty sure Strep B wasn't one of them. Apparently the Strep B test is a pretty important one nowadays, one given to every pregnant mom, one whose results may alter the delivery plan. Or it's supposed to. As long as you get to the hospital in time to get some antibiotics pumping intravenously as precautionary protection for the little one. Which, ahem, was supposed to happen with Megan and Mac but didn't because the newfangled procedure next on this list worked far quicker than expected. (Mac fortunately ended up okay and aced the tests that proved it.)

Induction: Back in my day, pitocin was the drug of choice for bringing on labor. I never had to be induced, but it was the go-to method of getting that baby outta there when needed. Apparently drugs aren't the only option anymore, there's also the option to insert a balloon — up "there" — to get things moving. Which just seems weird to me. But it clearly worked for getting Mac here ... again, far quicker than expected.

Swaddling: Back in my day, I learned rather quickly that swaddling a baby could save the day, as well as Mom and Dad's sanity. The technique made millionaires out of entrepreneurial folks who marketed swaddling blankets. Swaddling was in vogue for years and years, even through Bubby's birth and early months. I have pictures galore of the newborn bundle wrapped tight into a precious little Bubby burrito. I won't be doing that with Mac, though, and neither will Megan, as the experts now say swaddling is out and letting the baby's arms flop and fling to help them awaken themselves is in.

Push presents: Back in my day, moms pushed their way through labor and delivery and were rewarded for their hard work with a precious bundle to take home with them, to love and cherish forever. That's not how it works nowadays, at least in some circles. Yes, moms still get the precious bundle and the hope is that they'll love and cherish it forever, but they also get a special gift from Dad for the performance in pushing out the kid. It may be jewelry, a new bag, a fitness membership, but whatever it may be, Dad better have thought long and hard — and opened his wallet wide — to show his appreciation for the pain and pushing Mom endured in the name of growing the family tree.

Some of these changes make sense to me. There's certainly no harm done by not swaddling a baby, especially if it keeps the SIDS fears at bay. But push presents? That one leads me to wonder how many times moms will expect gifts throughout the years to make up for the pains of parenting. Because as those of us with adult children know, in hindsight, the pushing during delivery is by far one of the easier parts of parenting.

Today's question:

If you were to be given a gift for enduring a recent challenge, for what challenge would you like to be rewarded and what would be a fitting gift?

Coupon queen

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Coupons are a hot commodity in my world. Sure, I use coupons for products when grocery shopping, but what I'm talking about here are coupons as gifts.

Somewhere along the line of rearing three daughters, creating coupons to be redeemed for good deeds and great times became a recurring gift, either from me to them or from them to me. Of those, I especially remember giving coupons for expensive jeans and athletic shoes that I surely would not pick out for a persnickety and brand-conscious teen daughter without her present to do the picking. I also recall often receiving coupons "good for one foot massage" (a popular one, as I do love me a good foot rub now and then).

As the girls grew older, their coupon gifts to me became more elaborate. Not all that many years ago, I received an entire book of coupons from Brianna, good for everything from dusting to dinner out to a night at the movies to — oh, glorious girl! — her to do the grocery shopping (my most detested chore).

There were so many good offerings, so many great intentions wrapped up in that raffia-bound booklet that I never got around to using them all. It was one of those gifts in which the thought truly was what counted most to me.

This past Mother's Day, Andrea proved that coupons still work their magic on Mom — even as my little girls are no longer little and head ever closer to 30 years of age.

Andrea's gift coupon was not so much an actual coupon this time, but a promise written in the Mother's Day card for a good deed to come. A handmade Mother's Day card. Made of quarter-fold construction paper written on just as my little Andie used to do, and it included a reference to one of the sillier cards she's given me in the past, one that makes me chuckle each time I run across it in the box I've filled with cards given to me throughout the years.

The good deed Andie promised for Mother's Day was a day of helping out in the yard, in preparation for summer. It's a gift I requested — and received — often for Mother's Day when the nest was still full.

Yesterday was the promised day, and what a busy day it was. Andie and I shopped for flowers then together we planted the many begonias and fuchsia in various containers and hangers on the patio. She bagged up piles of pine needles I had raked Saturday. And she helped Jim "plant" a humongous fallen tree...in cement...in our "tree graveyard" in the backyard (a long twisted story, one I'll possibly share another time).

Let's just say I got my coupon's worth. And then some.

The "then some" was that while Jim, Brianna, Andrea and I ate dinner on the patio, Andrea mentioned a coupon she had previously given me, possibly for my birthday last year. One for a pedicure that I had forgotten to redeem. So we made plans for redemption.

Which later got me to thinking: That pedicure coupon was rather old, but so are those remaining in "Mom's Coupon Book" from Brianna. Coupons for making dinner, giving back rubs, and even a few left for her to do the grocery shopping. Yessiree, I do believe it's time to finally cash in on one or two of those.

I must admit that during my time raising three daughters, I did a few things right. Teaching the girls to give coupons as gifts was one of them.

Not teaching them to include an expiration date on the coupon gifts was definitely another.

Today's question:

Question suggestions: Offer up any question, plus your answer, and I might use it in the future (I hated my original question today).

The Saturday Post: Baby Girl edition

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Graduation season is nearly over. We have our last graduation party to attend tomorrow, for several nieces and nephews. With so many kiddos celebrating their commencements, the graduations of my own daughters have been heavy on my mind, as has one particular song.

When Megan and Andrea were away at college — they went to the same university — they joked about the following song being their song to Jim and me. Andrea, who used to make me CDs of new music she thought I'd enjoy, added it to one of the CDs despite my typical aversion to country music. I did end up loving it, mostly because it always made me think — and still does — of my baby girls. (Although I'm no dummy: I know the "playing here at the bar tonight" line had a completely different meaning for Megan and Andie than what the lyrics intended.)

Oh, and in case you're wondering — or in case my baby girls are reading — I'm still waiting on that letter announcing they'll send us money now that they're "so rich that it ain't funny." Just sayin'...

Today's question:

What genre of music do you listen to most often?

5 books and boredom busters

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Summer will soon be in full swing, which means grandmas, moms, aunts and others will likely have more time with the kids. And likely more time for kids to complain of being bored. That also means, though, that you have more opportunities to wow the wee ones and combat those unnerving "I'm bored" complaints.

Here are a few ideas for preventing the boredom blues, featuring one of my favorite things: books. Try them out on your summer charges, let me know how it goes, and feel free to share in the comments any boredom busters you might have up your sleeve.

Book: Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site by Sherri Dusky Rinker. Cement Mixer, Excavator, Dump Truck and more all work oh-so hard during the day then tuck themselves in at night, resting up for the next day's work. Bubby loved this picture book featuring some of his all-time favorite trucks.

Boredom buster: Take a trip to a nearby construction site to watch (from afar) the work vehicles doing their jobs. Younger kids may want to bring along their toy trucks of a similar sort; older kids may enjoy having a pair of binoculars on hand to get an up-close look at the action.

Book: There's a Dragon in the Library by Dianne de Las Casas. This clever tale tells of Max and his visions of a dragon during story time at the library. Is there really a dragon in the library or is it just his imagination? And how can he convince Mom, the librarians and Officer Riley that there really is a dragon in the library.

Boredom buster: Head to the library, of course, and seek out books about dragons, along with any others of interest to youngsters in tow. While there — or, better yet, before going — find out what activities are lined up at the library, where summer programs for kids are often a highlight of summer. They sure were for my girls when they were young.

Book: Amazon Alphabet by Johnette Downing. This colorful adventure takes kids of all ages from A to Z through the Amazon, introducing familiar folk such as frogs and jaguars, as well as the unfamiliar including the caiman and quetzal. Facts and features accompany each alphabetic selection.

Boredom buster: Zoo time! Many zoos have an Amazon Rainforest feature where kids can enjoy an A-to-Z scavenger hunt of things featured in the book. If your local zoo doesn't have such an exhibit, enjoy an A-to-Z hunt of other animals. If schedules, weather, or budgets nix a zoo visit, use the pictures in the book as inspiration for drawing Amazon animals for creating your own rainforest in your backyard or home.

Book: Grandma's Bag of Tricks: Toad Cottages & Shooting Stars by Sharon Lovejoy. This book truly isn't just for grandma's as it comes in quite handy for anyone looking for activities for kids. With an older child, peruse the awesome options for fun, from restaurant night at home, to pinecone bird feeders, to fairy tea parties, tin-can bands and more. For little ones, pick and choose any of the many perfect for toddlers.

Boredom buster: Not too hard to figure this one out as there are more than 130 activities to choose from. The hard part is making a choice. Consider having the child make a list of the ones you want to tackle together throughout the summer or a visit. 

Book: Meet Einstein by Mariela Kleiner. This book may be designated as for youngsters ages 2-4, but it's a safe bet that older kids will appreciate the straightforward introduction to one of the all-time great scientists. In addition to the story, the inside front and back covers include a pictorial rundown of all the tools needed for scientific exploration: goggles, beakers, nets for catching butterflies, gloves to "protect my fingers from sticky and icky things," and more.

Boredom buster: The book outlines some of Einstein's great scientific discoveries related to light and gravity. Come up with a few experiments involving light — using flashlights, lightbulbs, fire, rainbows — and gravity — any manner of things that go up then come down (spills, jumping in the air) or go up but don't come down (balloons, kites). As the book notes, even preschoolers can grasp the concepts of light and gravity. "Help them make the connection in everything they see and do, and teach them that science is all around them."

Good to know: Clicking on the book covers will provide more information on the books. They are NOT affiliate links, and I earn nothing by you clicking on them. And in the interest of full disclosure, I purchased the Toad Cottages and Construction Site books myself; the others were sent to me for free by the publishers, with no obligation to review or write about them and no compensation for doing so.

Today's question:

Fill in the blank: When I get bored, I ___________________.

Pomp and certain circumstances

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In recognition of graduation season, here are 9 reasons I'm glad I don't have a teen graduating from high school.

1. Been there, done that. Three times over.

2. The cost: senior pictures, announcements, class rings, yearbooks, caps and gowns, and more.

3. Aforementioned senior pictures. Not so sure how it goes with boys, but with girls there's the trauma, the drama of portraits. (Tho I must admit my girlies' senior photos were lovely ... and they kept their bodies appropriately covered, unlike some senior portraits I've seen of late.)

4. The cost, part two: graduation gifts. No cars for my kids, but there were computers for college.

5. Gah! College! Graduation from high school means college plans or at least considerations. So, so, SO glad to be done with college app fees, FAFSAs, food plans, and travel to and fro.

6. Senior prom. Enough said. If you've ever gone to one — or had a child go to one — you know what I mean.

7. Graduation night parties. Fear and trembling on the part of parents with kids who think the flip of a tassel has made them an adult and they're ready to party like one. (Kids who don't realize that adults typically party hearty in a less hearty — and more safe — manner. Usually.)

8. The summer before college. Again, fear and trembling on the part of parents with kids who think they're adults ... except when it comes to picking up their room, saving money, packing all the right stuff for college, and being considerate of parents who still expect them to come home before the crack of dawn (or at least call if they're not).

9. The next chapter: The empty nest. It's a tough one to get used to. Been there, done that, too. Am now finally used to it. And am so glad I don't ever have to go through the transition again.

All kidding aside, to those who do have lovelies marking the end of their high-school careers this graduation season, I sincerely say Congratulations! (And good luck!)

Photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What is one of the more valuable lessons you learned from high school?

The grandma two-step

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When my children were babies, I made all the decisions. Big or small, it was all up to me. And Jim, too, of course.

Soon my girls grew. And tested my choices, my decisions. Their wishes and input were taken into account ... with the understanding that the last word belonged to Mom.

When the teen years hit, so did the realization that the last word doesn't have to belong to Mom. They were older, thought they knew it all and that Mom knew nothing. So they occasionally rebelled, made wrong choices, eventually came back to Mom with unspoken apologies. As long as they came back, that was all that mattered.

Then my little girls become adults. They've long since gone their own way, have their own say.

Decisions are no longer mine. But the girls — fortunately — still share their trials and tribulations, their challenges and changes ... and their choices related to such. Maybe the choices are about day care or tonsil surgery, partner selection, where to live, when to change jobs, how to make the most of the lives they've been given.

As they share, I read between the lines, hear the tone of their voices, the music behind their words that sings — sometimes with joy, sometimes with desperation — "I want your opinion, your advice, your approval."

So we start the dance. Two steps forward, two steps back, one step forward, one step back. I give my opinion, my advice, my approval. They accept it. We rejoice. We dance.

Sometimes it's that easy.

Other times it's not.

In the not-so-easy times, they share, I temper my opinion, my advice. And sometimes I withhold my approval, my support. Because I don't approve, don't want to support. We still dance, only at such times it's often gingerly, occasionally angrily. I want to support them, validate their choices, approve of what they're doing. I want to give them exactly what they seek. Yet experience, age — and yes, sometimes fear — make it impossible for me to do so without reservation.

They don't like that tune. And I can't change it with any degree of sincerity. So we both end the dance feeling hurt, slighted, misunderstood. But we dance around saying those things out loud. Usually.

I'm getting pretty good at figuring out right away which tunes are likely to trip us up, end on a sour note. It's at the outset of those dances that I'd like to say, "I love you with all my heart, my dear, but I think I'll just sit this one out."

But I've not yet figured out how to do that. Because just exactly how does a mother, a grandmother — a lifelong friend, confidante, advisor, protector — sit out the big ones and maintain a clear conscience, a clear heart?

Especially when the possibility looms large that turning down an invitation to dance may result in being invited no more.

Photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

Do you find yourself more often GIVING advice or SEEKING advice?

This post linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.