Introducing my real grandsons

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When I first bandied about the idea of blogging about being a grandma in 2009, my one and only grandson was one year old. As he'd be the star of the show, I asked my middle daughter — Megan, mother to my grandboy — if I could post photos of him and stories about him... as long as I didn't use his real name, didn't reveal where he lived. For safety reasons.

Megan not only gave me permission to share stories and such about my grandson with the world, she allowed me to use his nickname, too, in place of his real name. Thus Bubby made his debut on Gramma's blog, on Grandma's Briefs.

Three years later came grandson No. 2. I initially dubbed him Birdy — a nickname Megan hated and had no qualms about telling me so. Just call him Mac because it's kinda sorta like his name, she urged. Mac it was!

Three years after Mac came another grandson. I nicknamed him Jak. Which had absolutely nothing to do with his real name, but it rolled off the tongue (and blog posts) when naming the three boys: Bubby, Mac, and Jak.

I've been quite diligent about using those nicknames for my grandsons. At times I'd have to scurry to the computer hours after a post had been published when upon rereading, I'd notice I screwed up and used one or more boys' real name and needed to quickly correct it. If photos of the boys included a name on a T-shirt, artwork, awards, gift tags or such, I blurred them out with photo editing software of some sort.

I was determined to never reveal the reality of my grandsons' long deliberated over names. Adorable one carefully chosen according to Megan's parameters that demanded her kids' names have two syllables, like Mom's and Dad's names, and ended with the same sound, like Mom's and Dad's names. (Which will make sense once you see their names.)

A few weeks ago I was contacted by a writer for Upworthy.com. She wanted to interview me about how I stay connected with my long-distance dearies using techy sorts of stuff. And she wanted to use the real names of those dearies with whom I connect in the article.

Names I'd never shared online. Gah!

I asked Megan if that might be okay. It was more than okay, she expressed. In fact, Preston couldn't stand the nicknames I used for his sons, she revealed, and would be pleased as punch if I'd just use their real names in everything published about them. Including my blog posts.

So I provided the real names for that article. Which you can read by clicking the title below — after reading the rest of this post, of course:

One grandmother has found a way to help her daughter out from miles away

Upworthy article on grandmother

Well, now that the real names...

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Jak sports a 'stache

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I'm not sure whether to attribute it to his determination to keep up with his two older brothers or to the limited amount of time I've had with Jak in his toddler years compared to how often I saw Bubby and Mac in theirs. But — gee whiz! — it sure seems to me my youngest grandson is maturing So. Much. Faster. than his brothers did.

A recent share from Megan confirms my assertion: The not yet three-year-old already sports a mustache.

toddler mustache with pudding

Okay, okay. You got me. It's obviously not...

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A grand St. Patrick's Day performance: Get Your Green On!

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st. patrick's day jibjab

In preparation for St. Patrick's Day, my grandsons, Jim, and I have been putting in long hours of practice on a special performance for our Grandma's Briefs friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Bubby, Mac, Jak, PawDad and Gramma in Get Your Green...

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7 things long-distance grandparents do that local grandparents don't

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My name is Lisa and I'm a long-distance grandparent.

My grandsons live more than 800 miles away.

Following are a smattering of things — seven, to be exact — that I and other long-distance grandparents do that grandparents who live near their grandkiddos likely don't.

(Featuring photos from my grandsons' most recent visit in November.)

long-distance grandparents

SEVEN
Stock up on Priority Mail Flat-Rate shipping boxes.

The mailman delivers empty boxes to my house. Free...

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Text to Gramma: Jak and the Lord

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I used to visit my three grandsons in the desert far more often than I have recently. Preston, the boys' dad, used to regularly attend work-related conferences, and Megan usually joined him. Which meant Gramma (that would be me) was flown to the desert to babysit the boys while Mom and Dad were away.

Add in a desert visit initiated by myself — sometimes with PawDad (that would be Jim) in tow — and the time between hugs and face-to-face fun were rather short. Which was fabulous for being aware and awed but not shocked by the growth of Bubby and Mac between visits.

That's not the case with Jak, who is now nearly 2 1/2 years old. Preston attends fewer conferences of late for various reasons; I haven't had the time or money to schedule many trips to see the boys myself. So I don't see Jak as often as I did his brothers during the toddler years.

Because of the limited in-person connecting with Jak, I'm regularly flabbergasted by how much he grows between Facetimes and photos and phone calls. He never fails to advance by leaps and bounds physically, socially, verbally, developmentally in myriad and magical ways.

A text from Megan on Monday demonstrated...

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Wherein Facebook eases Grandma's eyes

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I haven't seen my grandsons in two months and nine days, give or take an hour or two.

I miss the goofballs, to say the least.

With no visits currently on the calendar — neither them to my place nor me to theirs — a social media share such as this one that Megan posted yesterday on Facebook is a...

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