Nap time

It's been a crazy busy week. I'd give anything to be able to rest my head next to Bubby's and just take a nap.

Of course, I'd opt for Megan not taking flash photos of me while I nap. Looks like Bubby didn't get that option. But that's okay, without the flash I wouldn't have this sweet picture.

Best wishes for a rest-filled Friday!

Oh ... and if anyone wanted to warn me about the dangers of putting pillows in the crib, don't worry -- Bubby didn't get a pillow until he was well past his first birthday. You don't think this paranoid grandma wouldn't have already thought about that, do you?

Today's question:

Do you sleep on your back, stomach, side or other?

My answer: I sleep mostly on my stomach -- with Isabel (the cat) curled up between my feet.

Enunciate the love

Bubby has no problem showing his best bud Ro-Ro how much he loves him!I recently read "Just Let Me Lie Down: Necessary Terms For The Half-Insane Working Mom" by Kristin van Ogtrop, which I received free for participation in the SV Moms Group Book Club. (SV Moms Group is the umbrella group under which I write for the Rocky Mountain Moms Group occasionally.)

Kristin van Ogtrop is the editor of Real Simple magazine, which means she's a high-power working gal. In her book, she has lots to say about balancing work and life issues, or at least coming to terms with the fact that balance is an elusive thing for most working mothers. A lot of what she has to say is interesting, most of it's witty, tiny bits of it left me scratching my head.

One tiny bit that stood out as a head-scratcher for me is a comment van Ogtrop made about saying "I love you." The context is that it's a chapter in which she talks about the strangeness of realizing she may possibly love a coworker. Love as in motherly love, friendly love, not some sordid office romance type of love. First she confesses, "I am not a big 'I love you' person," then a few paragraphs later she says this:

"Many people who rise to leadership positions do so in part because they can control their emotions (see Emotional tourniquet, p. 63). Sometimes I think the only reason I have been hired to run a magazine is because I'm able to remember to keep a box of tissues in my office and I can usually remain dry-eyed while others around me burst into tears. I'm sure there are individuals I work with who pity my children, raised as they are by a woman who appears to have no emotions but the occasional flash of anger. To those colleagues: I assure you, I do tell my children and my husband that I love them. At least every once in a while."

It's those last couple sentences that caught my attention. I'm sure van Ogtrop isn't dead serious about the "every once in a while" part, but it made me consider how often the "I love you"s are thrown around in my family.

I come from a family where "I love you" was rarely said; my dad still says it only in third person ("Your dad loves ya"). I wanted things to be different in the family Jim and I created, and it is. We say "I love you" all the time, possibly so often that it has lost its oomph.

It started off when the girls were little that after bedtime prayers there'd be "Goodnight, I love you." Then, when they left the house it'd be "Have fun. Be safe. I love you!" Now it's the last thing we say at the end of telephone calls: "I love you. Bye!"

Even Bubby -- who, as a typical 22-month-old, still has a relatively limited word reportoire -- has learned the phrase. As we wrapped up our most recent Skyping conversation, he said "Bye!" followed by a mumbled "ahwhuhwhoo." Translation from Megan: "That's his 'I love you.'"

"Ahwhuhwhoo"s notwithstanding, most of our family phone calls are now end with what sounds much like "love-ya-bye!" as we all lead busy lives and rush to get off the phone so we can move along to the other dire matters that fill our days.

And I don't like that. Sure, the sentiment is still there, but this is an instance in which it's not just the thought that counts. It's the saying it like you mean it that counts.

So going forward (gotta love that corporate phrase left over from corporate days) I plan to enunciate, to say it like I mean it. Because I do mean it. More than anything else in my life. I love my girls, my husband, my Bubby.

And my readers.

I love you!

Bye!

Extra special bonus because I love you guys: I received two copies of "Just Let Me Lie Down" by Kristin van Ogtrop to give away. Enter to win one in the Back Room.

Today's question:

In an average day, how many times do you say "I love you"?

My answer: Probably five or six times.

The next Grilled Grandma

This week's grilled grandma is a real grandma -- and she has the license plate to prove it. What makes her real? Just ask her grandchildren and they'll gladly tell you.

In addition to a certified license plate, real grandmas have a special song sung about them. Grandma Anita's special song goes like this:

Grandma loves me this I know
for she always tells me so
I am hers and she is mine
Grandma loves me all the time

Yes, Grandma loves me
Yes, Grandma loves me
Yes, Grandma loves me
She always tells me so

Read about all the things that make Grandma Anita a real grandma -- or at least a real loved grandma -- right here.

And if you've got a real grandma to grill, click here to send me her first name and e-mail address so I can add her to the schedule.

Today's question: 

If you were to have a personalized license plate, what would it say?

My answer: EYE1IT (I won it ... on a fancy schmancy vehicle I'll win from PCH -- or at least use the PCH funds to purchase.)

Got it!

Bubby has entered the terrible twos, according to Megan. His favorite phrase has become "I got it, I got it, I got it!" chanted steadily to let Megan, Preston or any other adult know that they best not interfere with Bubby's attempt to get into his car seat himself, put on his shoes himself, throw away the garbage himself, spray the patio himself. Yep, Bubby's got it.

That, of course, is quickly followed by -- sometimes in the same day -- tears, whines and upheld arms accompanying the plea to Megan to "cuddle? cuddle?"

Not so terrible, if you ask me.

And not so different, I believe, from how most of us feel on any given day. I know this grandma certainly has her share of "I got it, I got it, I GOT it!" moments often followed by the need to just cuddle and let someone else take care of any business at hand. Sometimes in the same day.

Nope, not so terrible at all.

Got it?

Signs, signs, everywhere signs

My little GeminiRaise your hand if you're worried about the astrological sign under which your grandchild was born. Okay, since not everyone who visits Grandma's Briefs is a grandparent, what about those of you with children ... does your child's astrological sign make any difference to you?

By the lack of hands I see waving in the air, I'll have to assume I'm weird. I'm weird because when Megan was pregnant, I did worry about the sign under which Bubby would be born.

Well, I suppose worry isn't the correct word. I wouldn't put it in the category of my worries about his and Megan's health and welfare during and after the pregnancy. It's more like I was concerned ... and a little bummed ... and a little hopeful that Bubby would arrive a few days late just to bump him into the next sign.

Because, you see, Bubby's a Gemini and -- I apologize if this offends anyone -- I've never gotten along well with Geminis. I'm a Cancer, the sign right next door to Gemini, the one I was hoping Bubby would hold out for.

Long, long ago, for my 16th birthday to be exact, my mom bought me Linda Goodman's "Sun Signs." Like most teen girls, I was quite interested in astrological signs and how well my friends, enemies and potential beaus matched up with the traits ascribed to their signs. Most of the time, Ms. Goodman was correct -- and seemingly continues to be correct -- in her assertions. Jim (Pisces), Brianna (Leo), Megan (Sagittarius) and Andrea (Cancer) fit the descriptions to a T.

And I, a Cancer, completely and totally fit the description: I'm quiet, moody, retreat to my shell when I sense danger, artistic (in writing, nothing else really), fiercely dedicated to hearth and home.

Then there's the Geminis, of which I've met plenty: talkative, active, impulsive, fleeting, and -- the one trait I've seen quite often in the Geminis I know -- someone who lies about anything and everything embellishes their tales, usually for no clear reason at all.

Suffice it to say, I didn't want Bubby to be a Gemini. But he is. So I recently reviewed -- in the very same copy my mom gifted me decades ago -- the traits under Ms. Goodman's title "The Gemini Child" and found a few interesting tidbits. Right off the bat was a mention that parents should seriously consider using one of those animal-like harnesses for their Gemini child because he'll be all over the place in public and difficult to keep safe. Funny thing is that when Megan was planning the recent trip she and Bubby made to visit us in the mountains, she actually mentioned considering getting one, just to be safe. She ended up not getting one, mostly because Bubby's quite timid and stays right by her side no matter where they go. (Bonus point for Bubby as that's a Cancer trait.)

Another trait Ms. Goodman mentions is that Geminis often are ambidextrous. This is interesting because Bubby favors using his left hand for nearly everything, always has. But there's no one else in his immediate family that's left-handed. The closest leftie is Nick, my nephew and Megan's cousin (is that Bubby's second cousin?). Get this: Nick is a Gemini! Like Nick, Bubby uses his right hand occasionally, but chooses the left nine times out of 10.

Another trait of the Gemini child is "there's usually a marked ability to mimic others." This I find amusing because for a while there I worried that Bubby would never speak normal words -- only because he was mimicking the gibberish in which his mom and dad spoke to him. For some unknown reason, Megan and Preston related to their little one by making him grin and giggle in response to their wacky sounds (which usually sounded much like the "ca-CAAH" goofiness from the goofy guy in the movie "Evolution"). Bubby loved those silly sounds ... and mimicked them to no end.

What I found most interesting about the Gemini traits Goodman lists, though, is that other than the two above, Bubby fits very few of them. But when I flip forward a few pages and read about "The Cancer Child," he hits quite a few right on the head: "His emotions are rich, colorful and varied." "They're funny little creatures with droll expressions and eyes that almost talk by themselves." "You may wish you could predict when he's going to get ... that faraway look in his eye as he listens to the curious music every Moon child hears." "He can get mighty weepy when he's ignored or treated harshly."

If you ask me, I think the doctor may have been a little off in the due date he gave Megan because it seems more and more that Bubby was destined to be a Cancer, not a Gemini. Which is great! Maybe he can overcome any of the negative Gemini traits he may have inherited due to an early arrival. (Again, my apologies to any Gemini readers -- it's nothing personal!)

Although, as all mothers and grandmothers know, no matter what he is, no matter what traits he possesses, I will truly love him with all my heart, all my soul, always and forever.

But let me just say right now that if Bubby ever grows up to be a big ol' liar/embellisher, this Cancer Grandma will surely be having some mighty serious words with that Gemini child!

Today's question:

What sign are you and do you fit the description?

This post was linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.