granparent life, grey hair

She’s That Kind of Crazy…

Being a grandmother is a gift. It is one that some open with trepidation and the acceptance of one’s age. Some spend months deciding on what to be called. Like that matters, but it does allow the transitioning into our new role. The day, our nugget was born, I was in a parade. I was in the midst of royal waves for miles with a bit of Vaseline on the teeth, to hold my fading smile. But this additional news brought a feeling that I had lost. Pure joy. I had not felt this for years. It brought me back to all the good times as a parent multiplied by a bazillion. No Vaseline needed.

Initially, I tried to be the low-key grandma. That did not last. I craved that smile and inner light this person brought to my life. It was akin to reliving my own sons great days without any of the traditional raising stressors. I could just sit on the floor and play, stare, laugh. No need to cook, clean, work, etc. All attention on one human. Pure delight. At least for me. Not all grandma’s are alike…some even allow themselves to live out of the state of their nuggets. How, I do not know. I would sell my soul to live near mine, much to my sons chagrin.

I am over the top. I am one of those. Not low-key. Whatsoever. The family is getting used to my craziness. As a result when I suggest the the nugget and I dress as elves for a school event. No one bats an eye. At least in front of me. When I suggest we go take the nugget on a European cruise for my 60th (ouch) in 🇫🇷 so we can do everything together. They took it well as I threw in Euro Disney for entertainment and if they were tired, I offered to do the entire park without them. They rallied. Eyes stopped rolling. Craziness back in check. When Christmas rolls around and well, you know…they put up with it and I just glow. My inner kid is fulfilled.

We live 90 minutes away. Too far. I am ready to move. Have dinner weekly and go to every game/concert/play etc that he participates in during his school years. I will be that one in the crowd just glowing with pride not only for the nugget but for the kid I raised, who gave me the initial gift of motherhood, and my pure happiness and fulfillment of life.

echelon, fitness, goals, granparent life, Peloton

Progress Not Perfection

About a year ago I went on a hike. A short hike. Barely an incline. I almost died. I had to sit about five times, I cursed like a sailor, and requested that my car be brought up the hill (as my friend called it). To me it was akin to Mount Everest. My embarrassing moments were just that embarrassing. Staring at the finish line aka parking lot while just feet away seemed like miles.

Fast tracking to the end of this terror I made it to the car and cried all the way home. Not out of pain but the reality of how I let myself become a blob with no ability to walk a few miles upward.

Once upon a time I was in shape. The wedding. Check. After the wedding. Check. Pregnancy. Check. After pregnancy. Check. My son’s first eighteen years due to the country club life and the machines I had at my disposal. Check. Then real life hit. A few life issues mixed in with mid-life. Everytime I started the walk down the block, the online barre or pilates classes. I stopped. Made excuses and felt pure guilt at not being able to cross the line of consistency.

Covid-19 brought many of us to our fitness, social, emotional, or financial needs. For me I knew if I did not do something I would look like a parades floating balloon. Perhaps it was the social media perfection pictures that flashed at me during the daily boredom and scrolling hours or all the blogs of fifty somethings that look thirty. Whatever it was. It clicked. Onward to my echelon/peloton life.

The first seventy-three rides were of the twenty minute variety mixed with HITT, Tabata, pop and the low key variety. Today, I made a move. I went to thirty minutes. I did it. I survived and I will continue until I can go to forty-five minutes with the weekly goal of an hour. My goal is lofty but it will be achieved.

So, my shape is improving for me and my family, especially my grand-nugget who will never see his grandmother poop out at a park. Any park. Even one with great big mouse ears. Does my shape represent thirty at fifty-seven, no. But I am getting closer and feeling great about it!

granparent life, life

Hugs and Stuff

Tomorrow is my hubs birthday. I could shower him with praise, but I am not. He will not notice and frankly what could I say that I do not tell him every single day. Nothing. Besides let’s leave the saccharine sappiness where it belongs, to the young who are newly in love. We have something better than the drippings of sweet love and adoration. After thirty-two years together we got the prize of prizes…A grandchild.

A sweet two year old that we hover over, kiss boo boos, drink countless cups of pretend tea, spoil, sock money away for his future, and swoon when we are hugged, reaches for our hands, or during this last visit he asked us to get in the car with him…as home was not his current desire. His sweetness ❤ reminds us of our kid long ago. Who, like all of us has outgrown the sweet innocence we all eat up to feed our needy souls. The unfortunate reality of adulthood is that it robs us of the carefree love and kindness that the youth have in spades and the addition of grandchildren remind us again of our roots and our true needs. But I digress.

Back to the title…Today, the hubs turns 56 and today we celebrate with a socially distant football extravaganza. The real party, however, was a few days ago when we had a couple hours of uninterrupted playtime, hugs, cuddles, and little person banter. Plus our big bonus is always watching the kid be a dad. The best dad and his calling as his inner-child and sweetness comes pouring out again just as they did years ago. These are moments we wish we could bottle and was the hubs true birthday moment. So no matter what I buy, bake, or arrange birthdays are never the same anymore without his buddy.

Happy 56 Grandpa!

education

Dad is Life and Life is Dad…

Our kid has gone through a medical struggle (back) and heartbreak due to the outcome. The kid we raised is smart, stubborn, athletic, artistic, and brave. It has been a haul but that is life and we are a tough family. His recent two year battle came with a miracle that has come full circle and resulted in a new career of sorts, one with no pay, gratitude and frankly the best type of life, full-time dad. DJL now a two year old mini-KWL. He is a single dad and does it all. He is super-dad and his mini-him is attached at the hip and the big guy is just as attached. It is something to see and it is especially poignant from the eyes of a grandparent.

In the midst of raising littles you often miss their favorite show and their intense understanding of character and plot. The mimicked behaviors that are character requested during the developmental shows for little people learning, and the delight in their eyes when they hit perfection of the character moves. Now, I see it all and always tell my son, to slow down and watch it all. It goes fast. So fast. I see his side also, I have done all of it, as my hubs was and is a workaholic who has slowed a bit to cherish the grandfather role, and for that I am grateful.

Long ago, KWL was my mini-me and I see the same in their relationship that we had long ago. Insert Hugs. My former mini-me, at two went to grad school with me, literally walked ASU and went to classes, held the door for the students, and ate Cheerios, colored and practiced sounds and letters. At two and a half we had all letters and numbers through ten mastered, an obvious result of ASU. Insert Laugh. I knew he needed pre-school but neither of us were ready and besides after class there was a happy meal at the Memorial Union. By day I took notes, by night I studied. In between I clipped fingernails, wiped faces, cut up food, played, and prayed my picky eater would eat. Our relationship was tight. In fact, so strong that pre-school was a tough separation for us but we both survived and both flourished. He with his Montessori buddies and me with student teaching and a diploma. The night I walked Gammage for my masters he literally waited in the wings of to see me get what we both earned. As I walked off the stage, I got a hug, and I am sure we all had a McDonald’s dinner. I am sure of that. That is our past, but those times along with many more days like it created the adult he is today.

As parents, we constantly question ourselves, I no longer question. Nope. I am good. I did my best and now I cherish the moments of watching their practical daily life. I find odd joy in the nail clipping, face wiping, consistent feeding (no prayers needed), playing, reading, counting, and constant exploration with high doses of love. I get odd joy in seeing that my former mini-me picked up some skills along the way and is tirelessly using them on his best little person. Now, I sit back and enjoy all the moments, the ones I lived and the ones I missed. As a grandparent I am especially good at the Blues Clues movements and Tea Time, even when it is poured from our tummy as we are into the letter T right now, pretend play, counting, Little Tykes basketball and hugs. I like my hugs the best and look forward to watching my mini-child grow into his own adult and if blessed watch him with his child as they navigate the waters between the constant work and joy our children bring.

I love you KWL.