Not in Grandma's job description

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Bubby's in trouble.Soon after I published the post about Bubby seeming mature beyond his two years by taking responsibility for his actions, he had a horrid day marked by, as Megan put it, "making bad choices."

In other words, he acted like a two-year-old.

Seems that Bubby pushed down a little girl he didn't want invading his personal space. He didn't balk over the subsequent time-out, he didn't apologize to his victim, and, more distressing to Megan, he didn't express any remorse over his dastardly deed.

Megan had a serious conversation with Bubby to let him know such behavior is not acceptable. "We use our hands to love, not to hurt" was the theme of her lecture. She also assigned Preston to follow through with a similar lecture when he got home from work that evening.

And she called me to ask that Gramma and PawDad mention it during our weekly Skyping session, that we stress the importance of being kind to others, making good decisions, doing the right thing. No problem, I told her. By all means, we can reinforce good behavior.

Facing the music.Then we proceeded to Skype. Jim and I started off the video conversation with questions about the incident and admonitions about being nice to others.

And it sucked. For all of us.

Bubby faced the music -- and the webcam -- with reservation and solemnity not typical of our Skype time. The happy little grin that usually fills our computer screen during our video visits was replaced with a sad, seemingly confused little boy who didn't understand how Gramma and PawDad could be so serious with him.

It was a painful moment for Bubby. It was a painful moment for me and Jim. I think it was a tad uncomfortable, possibly even painful, for Megan.

Again, it sucked. For all of us.

So we all -- most importantly, Bubby -- quickly agreed Bubby would make better choices going forward. Apology accepted. We moved on to happy talk. We read a story book. Bubby's grin appeared. It also appeared Bubby had learned his lesson.

Apology accepted!I know I certainly learned mine: Going forward, lecturing will be left to Megan and Preston. Skype time with Bubby is too precious to have it tainted by stern talk in somber voices and a sad little boy staring back at me on the computer screen.

I'm willing to have Megan's back on the reinforcing of proper behavior and such. Believe me, I understand the necessity for such. But if she wants me to do it with a heavy hand, she'll need to move closer so I can do it in person because I hereby declare I will no longer do teleconference lecturing.

Teleconference lecturing is not in the job description for long-distance grandmas. At least not in this long-distance grandma's job description.

Today's question:

When has the "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" adage come into play for you?

Worth the time?

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  PLUS    EQUALS 

We're all busy, we're all trying to fit 26 hours of activity into the allotted 24. And in that flurry of fun are lots of things we do -- or at least that I do -- that I really don't think are worth the time it takes to do them.

Making coffee? So worth the time. Making the bed? Not so much. (Luckily bed-making is Jim's job, not mine.)

The ultimate example of something that I consider not worth the time it takes to do it is the Thanksgiving meal. I enjoy cooking. I like making yummy stuff for my family, immediate and extended. But gee whiz! You spend weeks planning and shopping for it, days cooking for it, hours getting it on the table and POOF! It's over in less than one hour, sometimes even quicker than that.

So not worth the time.

Fortunately life is not a total waste of time; we're not forking out minutes without racking up emotional payoff. Indeed, there are a few things in life that, despite the hassle, despite the time investment, prove to be totally worth it.

Tuesdays at 6 p.m. is our standing Skype time with Bubby. I had purchased four picture books to be shipped from Amazon to him and four of the same books shipped to myself so I could read a book to him while Skyping. This past Tuesday was the designated day for Bubby to open the boxes and choose the first for us to share.

But Tuesday evening was crazy busy. Jim had lots to share when he got home from work, then we had even more to discuss after his telephone conversation with his out-of-state brother. Then my boss from the literacy center called with a request that caused a bit of consternation (and guilt) on my part and when I hung up with her, it was after 6 p.m.

Then the phone rang again.

It was Megan. "Umm, it's after 6 p.m. and you're not online? What's up? I'm sitting here explaining to my crying son exactly what it means to be stood up."

"Cuss!" I replied, explaining why I was running behind.

She was just kidding about Bubby crying and about making him think Grandma's a screw-up, of course, and she said we could just do it another time. For a split second I was tempted to take her up on the offer. Skyping does take up some time, which I was short on, and it is a bit of a hassle because I have to unplug my laptop from the big monitor, keyboard and mouse and move to the dining room with it so Jim can participate, as it's too crowded at my desk for the two of us.

But I had said we would Skype, that we would open the books, that we would share a story. And this grandma doesn't go back on what she says she'll do.

So we Skyped. Jim and I watched as Bubby eagerly -- but patiently -- awaited the opening of the Amazon box with the surprise goodies inside. His eyes grew bigger and bigger ... then his face lit up, his smile became a grin and he exclaimed, "Books!" All the while goosebumps covered my arms and my heart grew not just three but ten sizes that day.

I showed Bubby that Grandma has the very same books, holding each up to the webcam. He immediately selected "I Love Trucks" and off we went, sharing a story across the 819 miles between us. I read, he turned pages, Megan and Jim listened. We all laughed about cows and bunnies and trucks.

Bubby loved it. I loved it. Megan and Jim loved it, too.

Was it worth it? You bet your bippy, it was! For that, my friends, is one of the very few things in life that was, is and always will be so worth the time that it takes.

(Disclaimer: Astute regular visitors may think these Skype photos are from a previous session and you are correct! I was too busy reading -- and grinning -- to take photos of the session of which I write.)

Today's question:

What is one thing you think is definitely worth the time it takes?

Tweeting without Twitter

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I never thought in a million years I'd say this, but I use Twitter. Daily. Sometimes hourly.

After several years of saying how stupid the social networking site seemed to me, I'm now a tweeter. Which is kind of like a tweaker, as it is rather addictive, but it costs far less. In fact, being on Twitter pays me -- in the form of new followers and friends. Some of you reading this may have even followed me here from Twitter. (Welcome, SITSGirls!)

Anyway, so I tweet. No big deal.

Apparently it is a big deal to my daughters, though. A laughable big deal.

My daughters don't tweet; they think it's silly (like mother, like daughter, I suppose). They text, they're on Facebook, one even has a blog. But "I'd never tweet on Twitter!" is pretty much the common refrain from all three, incredulous that their mother -- a grandma, even, and someone they thought was intelligent ... on most days -- would actually participate in such drivel.

Funny thing is, my daughters do tweet. All the cussing time! Just not on Twitter. They send me little chirps and shoutouts via 140-character-or-less texts and 140-word-or-less phone calls and voicemails all day long. Which, in my opinion, puts them firmly in the "tweet" category.

The girls call or text to tweet about their trip home from work, the weather, what temperature you preheat the oven to for banana bread and on, and on, and on.

Don't get me wrong; I love their pseudo-tweeting. I truly do. I love that my daughters are comfortable calling and texting any time, any day, any night, for any reason whatsoever, however inane that reason may be.

Here is a small sampling of the pseudo-tweets I've received from my daughters just in the last two days:

"I finally feel like I have friends again!"

"What do I do if the power goes out?"

"Have you accessed my bank account for any reason?"

"Yay! I signed a lease!"

"I've never hated a job as much as I hate this one."

See what I mean? Those are tweet-worthy texts and telephone calls. More like Twitter direct messages, but Twitter talk just the same.

The one serious difference between tweets from my girls and tweets from my Twitter pals? No matter how often they tweet, no matter how often they bug the cuss out of me with the chirping, I can't unfollow the girls. There's definitely no "unfollow" button when it comes to my lovely offspring. And in all honesty, I don't want there to be. (Some folks on Twitter? Well, that's a different story. And I do use the unfollow button.)

Oh, and another big difference: Retweeting certain tweets from the girls is bad. Very, very bad. And may result in a total lockout of the service.

Which means this post will likely get me a big 'ol #mymomdoesntknowwhentokeephermouthshut mention.

If only the girls knew what that means.

And how to do it.

But they don't.

Because they're not on Twitter.

Ha!

Today's question:

Do you find it easier to form new friendships online or in real life? Why?

We now pronounce you ...

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There's been a fair amount of conversation in our family regarding what the grandkids will call grandma. I kind of liked G-Ma; Megan wanted Grammy; Bubby has chosen "Granna" ... which also comes out, at times, as "Gramma." That's perfectly fine with me; it's much preferred over the original "Graya."

Not so much has been said about what Bubby and future grandchildren are to call Jim. His only request was that he NOT be called "Pop," as that was the moniker of his not-so-nice stepdad.

So Jim and I have been toodling along, figuring we're just plain ol' vanilla "Grandma and Grandpa."

Bubby seems  to have a different idea for Jim.

When he first started forming words and identifying things around him, Bubby mixed up his syllables for lots of things. So we didn't pay all that much attention to what he'd been calling Jim.

But during our Skyping session Tuesday night (which provided all the photos for this post), Bubby made it very clear -- after being asked "Who's that?" several times in reference to his grandpa -- that his pronunciation wasn't a mistake, that Jim is now and forever will be ...

... "PawDad!"

Yep, Bubby called him PawDad many times, all with a huge smile on his face.

And with that, "PawDad" Jim will be.

PawDad and Granna. Are there any better grandparenting names than that?

I don't think so. At least not for us!

    

Today's question:

What makes you laugh out loud?

Photo replay

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Bubby requested a special Skype session with Grandma and Grandpa this past week, specifically to show us the caterpillar he made at day camp.

June 10, 2010

Today's question:

What is the best part of your Sunday routine?

My answer: When Jim and I sit at opposite ends of the dining room table and peruse the newspaper while sipping our morning coffee, swapping sections as we complete them.

Skyping 'bout school

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(Not from Skype, but the happy face that filled the screen just the same.)

Bubby is attending "school" this week, participating in the summer camp for two-year-olds at church while Megan works the VBS. He loves the class, the interaction with the "teacher" and other kids, and he had lots to share with us about his day during our Skype session Tuesday night.

First he held up to the web camera his newly planted flower: a Play-Doh container packed with dirt, and somewhere within, a seed he's hoping will bloom. Relying on Megan to translate, Bubby told Grandma and Grandpa all about the "dirt," the "flower" and "water." We kinda sorta understood those words ... as long as Megan repeated them for us.

Next up was a picture of which Bubby was oh-so proud: A popsicle-stick frame embellished with glued-on buttons perfectly complementing a plant picture cut from a magazine. High art for a toddler!

Seems that "plants" was the theme of the day, and Bubby learned lots about plants in his few hours of "school." And he was more focused than usual during the Skype session, as he wanted to be sure Grandma and Grandpa heard -- and saw -- all he had gleaned from the day.

It was pretty exciting on our end to get our first glimpse of what it will be like when Bubby calls us up after a day of real school, to animatedly share via Skype the news -- and art projects -- of the day.

Only thing is, Bubby and Grandpa will have to come up with some other male-bonding motion by that time, as doing "knucks" at the end of the conversation already rocks and knocks the computer monitor on Bubby's end. I can only imagine what it will do when it's a five-year-old -- or older -- punching fists on the screen with Grandpa!

Today's question:

When recalling doing art projects as a child, what's one thing that stands out in your mind?

My answer: The smell of the paste. I remember the tubs of paste with a stick applicator attached to the lid and trying to spread the goo where it needed to go. Of course it never applied smoothly, thanks to the rigid stick, so cutouts glued to paper always had a lump here and there. I loved squishing down those bumps of glue, releasing the sweet scent of a masterpiece in the making.

Skype time

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Bubby left yesterday -- with Daddy alone, no Mommy! -- to visit his grandma and grandpa on the plains. That, of course, required a quick Skype session with this grandma and grandpa before he left.

Here's how it went:

Hey, Bub! Yay, It's Grandma and Grandpa! Time to show them how goofy I can be. And let them know I've got ALL my teeth now! Look how quickly I can shake my head ... back and forth over and over! That's right ... I'm a silly one! But I can smile sweet, too. And listen really well. And look: I have two feet now! I can meow back at Isabel when you hold her to the camera. Meows, of course, must be followed by fish sounds. Did I mention all my teeth? This is the bedtime song I sing with Mommy: Love, love, love, love. I like to sway back and forth when we sing it. It just makes me want to love, love Mommy! Time to go! Here's a kiss! Kissing the monitor is so silly!

Saying buh-bye is always a little sad.

Today's question (from my trivia calendar, but fitting):

In the world of high-tech messages, you no doubt know what spam is; but how about spim and spit?

The answer: I'll tell you after a few comments; just curious if anyone knows. I didn't.

How I compute: then and now

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My computer has become a sinking ship and this week I started frantically trying to rescue what I could from it before it's totally sunk. The lifeboat in which I'm transferring my bits and bytes: a laptop, my first laptop ever.

I purchased my now-dying desktop in 2004. It's been a good six years, with lots and lots and LOTS of changes, not only in computing but in my life. Those changes are evident in the way I spend my time on the computer, then versus now.

Then

Here's how I spent most of my computer time in 2004:

  • Reading parenting, entertainment and news articles.

  • Writing parenting articles ... for print publications.

  • Keeping tabs on my middle and youngest daughters who were 539 miles away at college, via MySpace, chatting and e-mail.

  • Regularly accessing the Occupational Outlook Handbook to help my youngest daughter figure out what degree/career to pursue.

  • Playing computer games: Mahjong, You Don't Know Jack, Wheel of Fortune.

Now

Here's how I now spend most of my time on the computer:

  • Blogging about my grandson.

  • Researching ways to improve the blogging about my grandson.

  • Reading other blogs -- 52 subscriptions in my RSS Reader.

  • Looking for work, freelance or otherwise.

  • Wasting timePromoting my blog on Facebook and now Twitter.

Good thing my shiny new laptop has a pretty darn good graphics card because by the looks of this comparison, I've become blog-obsessed, boring and in need of a game or two.

Or maybe, just maybe, what I really need is to step away from the computer and appreciate the aspects of my life not measured in bits, bytes and Google page ranks.

Which I'll definitely do -- after I get my shiny new laptop all set up and ready for blogging.

Today's question:

How do you spend the majority of your time on the computer?

Never say never

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Saturday I did something I said I'd never do: I joined Twitter.* I've made snarky comments about Twitter since its inception as I think it's rather stupid. But I joined it anyway ... despite having said I never would.

It's another in an ever-growing list of things I've said I'll never do, then I do them. Here are just a few examples:

  • I said I'd never blog. And I do ... often ... obviously.

  • I said I'd never join Facebook. And did. And have a profile for myself as well as a fan page for Grandma's Briefs.

  • I said -- along with Jim -- that we'd never move from the house that we lived in for nearly 20 years, in which we raised our three daughters, completed beau coup improvements and enjoyed pretty darn low mortgage payments. And we did move ... to a house double its size. (So much for downsizing as empty-nesters.)

  • I said I'd never be able to learn how to give myself shots -- with a needle, not a shot glass. And I did. And I do ... every darn day.

  • I said I'd never know how to read music. Then I took piano lessons and learned. So now I do -- even though I still have to recite "every good boy does fine" and "all cows eat grass." But that's okay.

  • I said -- again, along with Jim -- that I'd never visit Megan and Preston during the summer when the decided to make their home in the crazy hot desert. Then Bubby was born in June, so we visited a couple times that summer. Then again the following summer for his first birthday. And now we're looking at visiting again this summer for his second birthday.

I've obviously not done what I said. So I hereby swear that I will never say never again.

Maybe.

*You're welcome to follow me on Twitter: @GrandmasBriefs. I'll never guarantee the quality nor quantity of any tweets that may come your way courtesy of me. And THAT never I totally completely stand by.

Today's question:

How about you? What's something you said you'd never do ... then did?

Stupid is as stupid does

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I recently received a few compliments from readers about my technical ability and Internet know-how. I was pretty surprised, as I feel rather in the dark about all things HTML related, the language that makes blogging possible. I do know a bit about the Internet and I am pretty darn good at researching this and that online. But I wouldn't say I'm savvy.

I used to think I was pretty darn savvy with the Internet. Heck, I hopped online back in the early 90s -- and had the Prodigy account to prove it! But I now keep my pride and puffery about all things online in check by remembering my biggest online faux pas ever. It involved e-mail. And a few Grandma's Briefs readers know about the horror of which I speak.

Several years ago -- during my pseudo-savvy period -- I was the manager/editor of a small editorial department at the newspaper. At the time of which I write, I was in charge of three writers and one photographer. Because our "office" was just a set of open cubicles in a sea of other open cubicles, privacy was at a minimum. So we used e-mail for many a conversation.

The e-mailed conversations were usually between myself and the three women writers; our male photographer rarely, if ever, joined our e-mailed bitching and complaining. (The IT Department, on the other hand, probably saw each and every pixel we parsed out.) Of the three women with whom I corresponded, one, whom I'll call T, was a rather young gal ... actually so young that years and years earlier, she had been in my Daisy Girl Scout troop. I was her leader, the one who taught her about honor, kindness, how to "Be Prepared" and how to make homemade fortune cookies. T was engaged to a real numbskull of a ninny posing as a man, and as the young gal was younger than my daughters, I felt rather maternal toward her -- and more than a little irritated that her parents hadn't stepped in to put the kibbutz on the relationship with the ninny.

Well, T didn't last long working at the newspaper, but once she left, she still e-mailed us all often and was occasionally privy to the daily e-mail exchange among office mates. One day T sent an e-mail to us three older and wiser former coworkers talking about plans she and her now husband had. I can't remember the details, just that it was a rather naive plan, yet T thought it proved her maturity. I was appalled at her stupidity, her misguidededness, and I immediately e-mailed a reply to the other two older/wiser women in the group to air my bewilderment at T's plan and her penchant for the dumb ass she called her husband.

Only, I didn't hit "Reply" to just the two older/wiser women; I hit "Reply All." Which meant T got my the message ... quickly. She got the message that I wasn't the nice Daisy leader she once called Miss Lisa. Instead, I was a mean and bitter old woman who said mean and bitter things to someone to whom I once served as a mentor, someone who was just young and naive and trying to make her way in the world.

I was horrified that someone as e-mail and Internet savvy as myself could commit such a basic error of online correspondence (and judgement!). What a dunce was I.

I immediately (after freaking out to my coworkers) e-mailed T, privately, to apologize for the things I said. She graciously accepted my apology ... and never e-mailed me again. Which I deserved.

The young gal whom I once taught about manners then later interview techniques taught me even greater lessons. Not only did she teach me to always, always, ALWAYS check to see which reply option I've chosen when sending an e-mail, she also taught me that I should never, ever, EVER be snippy, snotty and snarky.

Especially not in writing.*

That, my dear readers, is why I will never consider myelf savvy -- online or otherwise.

*I'm embarrassed to admit that, unfortunately, I occasionally need refresher courses in those lessons. But I'm working on it.

Today's question:

With whom did you most memorably stick your foot in your mouth ... or send an e-mail that should not have been sent?