Fair....Game....

Daughter and Dude are off for a mini-vacation. They are traveling, via Amtrak train to New York City, meeting up with Dude's best friend and wife, who are vacationing from California. I'm watching the Grands. I'm thrilled. I'm exhausted, and it's only 9:30 on the first morning.

Bigger was up at 6:30am. The cat took the bed. He had to sleep on the chair. He didn't even have time to get a cover. I need to have a cover up there, on the chair, for emergencies. Noted. Stupid of me not to have anticipated this need. Seems obvious.

Baby is playing Lego video games on the touchscreen computer - which seemed like a good idea at the time. Baby loves that computer, he also loves to eat. He does both at the same time....you don't want to know what that screen looks like. I've become a pro at de-sticking the keyboard. Did you know you could pop off the keys with a butter knife?

Pretty Princess is playing with a plastic basket full of baby spoons, forks and knives that she ferreted out of the cutlery drawer. They don't seem THAT dangerous. And, she's occupied...OF COURSE, she could poke something out...but, I'm playing the odds.

The local Fair is in town. I'm sure by tonight we'll welcome the diversion. Tall One loves the Fair, I am ambivalent. I'm actively ambivalent. I'm radically ambivalent.

When it's just Tall One and me, walking through the Fair is a fun, educational experience, full of local color. I enjoy seeing the farm animals at their very best, groomed and fatted, especially the pigs at feeding time. Actually, it's more of the HEARING of the pigs at feeding time. They sound like what a shark frenzy looks like. The smells from the food stands is intoxicating. The rides look like fun. Even a side show! The tiniest woman in the world! According to the banner, her eight year old son is twice as tall! Something for everyone!

And, the crowds! You won't find a more eclectic collection of people anywhere! Not at the beach, not even at Walmart. People-watching at it's very best! Who needs the side-show? The laissez-faire attitude of the ride operators, contrasts starkly with the non-stop banter of the midway game hucksters. Grandma, out for the evening, followed like a mother duck by her half-dozen children and their children of various sizes. The tattooed couple, in shorts and sleeveless tops, proudly showing their collection of "wearable art". The excited wide eyed children, jostling through the crowd to arrive at the show just a bit before their attentive smiling parents.

When we have the Grands with us, the whole thing takes on a sinister connotation. Like the laughing clown that transforms into the leering lunatic. The animals seem uncared for and ill used. Who's sadistic idea is the "petting" zoo? A rickety folding banquet table arrayed with a couple of dozen baby bunnies, wrapped in filthy blankets struggling to free themselves from the maniacal embraces of girls, 18 months to 12 years, as the life is forever squashed from their fluffy soft bodies. Adults, pushing and trampling to gain a prime vantage point for their children to view the hatching eggs in the makeshift incubator. The children watching joyously as the new born hatch-lings, triumphant from their struggle, drown in the filthy water dishes. Kids kicking over the piles of pygmy goats huddling in the corners, climbing on the calves for a ride, poking at the terrified alpacas with sticks or throwing straw on the defeated, exhausted lambs.

The games are nothing more than impossible ripoffs. How dare the foul barkers approach us with their offensive offers of "win" and their pathetic attempts to lure us with "prizes"? The Grands are too young and naive to appreciate the risk that Tall One and I are taking when we mumble "no thanks". All they see are the goldfish and the sun-bleached stuffed Spongbobs! They want to "play". Anathema!

The food stands look filthy. They are ill equipped and understaffed. You risk bodily injury or starving to death in the lines for service. The rides are unsafe and dangerous - erected in 30 minutes by drug addicted, incompetents, and operated by hung-over funny-uncle Bob! NO SEAT BELTS - on the Ferris wheel! Baby's only FOUR! Gaaaahhhhhhh! Everything is overpriced!

And, who ARE all these people and where do they come from? Look out! Oh my god! Nearly run over by the 462 lb. grandmother on her hoover-round. It's a game of "Dodge the Weirdos" as we're jostled and jolted by her slovenly entourage, hell bent on getting that dozen whoopie pies and cotton candy for dessert, BEFORE they finish their pork bar-b-q's, vat of fries, and extra large homemade rootbeers. How can you eat so much, with so few teeth? What the....exactly IS that tattoo? Don't LOOK! Buddy, for the love of....put on a SHIRT, nobody wants to see that...and put out that cigar...you're gonna burn someone's eye out! Sorry, my bad...."Discount Day for Children of People Who've Married Their First Cousins"!

At the Fair, I feel as if I have to grab the Grands to my bosom, shielding their eyes, covering their ears, and running for cover! They, of course, are enjoying themselves immensely!

Grand beginning....

I fully recognize that not everyone is completely enamored by, or even interested in MY grandchildren. I think that, because I choose not to bore people with pictures and "cute" stories, I avoided writing about being a grandmother here on my very own blog. But, all that is about to change! Why shouldn't I write about the most important people in my world! I've written about Tall One, and Daughter and Dude, and O.S., and PhD. and Masters. I spend the great majority of my time and energy with, and on, my grandchildren. I've learned as much or more from them as I have from anyone. I've learned a lot about myself. And, you choose to read about it...or not!

When I talked with other grandmothers, before the birth of Bigger, I heard, "Oh, it's wonderful! You'll love being a grandma! It's really "different"!". And, I thought, "I loved being a mom! How "different" could it be!?!". And, then, Daughter got pregnant with Bigger.

I remember the day Daughter and Dude told us of the "blessed event". I can't remember why I went to their home, it was early in the day, before Dude left for work. They told me, and then Dude called our shop to tell Tall One. "I knocked up your daughter....", he sing, songed. Cute. Well, Dude thought he was cute, and Tall One took it well!

My theory on the utter delight of grandchildren, is simple: All of the joy, none of the crushing responsibility. I've enjoyed wonderful circumstances! Our daughter and Dude bought a home a mile away from ours. I have a good relationship with Daughter. She is my friend, and confident. I respect her. Admire her. I enjoy her company. And, I love her with all of my heart. Dude seems very content to have Tall One and me in their lives. From the time Bigger was born, really before that, he's been a part of my life nearly every day. Our families have meshed in a way that I dreamed could be possible. Daughter works in the business with Tall One. I watch the kids. They have toys here, a computer, a Wii. They have their own sleeping spaces. Their special treats, and food. They don't "come to visit Mammy", they "go to Mammy's house" like "going home".

Bigger was born on the first day of summer. A little over two years later, Baby, burst onto the scene, born on my 50th birthday. Nearly three years later, Pretty Princess arrived, already Queen of our world, on the Ides of March. And, starting today, you'll learn a bit about our journey!

Babysitting and Other Weighty Matters

Babysitting, from where did this term come? First of all, there are no babies involved. Yes, I know we still call the smallest one "Baby", but that's only to differentiate him from the larger one. He's walking and talking and exerting his personal preferences in typical male fashion (he either ignores us or throws a giant tantrum)...he is no longer an infant. The "new car smell" is gone. The larger one is almost fully functional. He can argue.
So, this week I am "babysitting". We've established the fallacy in the "baby" part, trust me, there is no "sitting" involved,either. They do not sit, I do not sit. Nobody sits, ever. Until dinner, then they go home and I sit....with a glass of wine. Whew.
They love me. Sometimes, they prefer me. I always prefer them.
Two blond boys. All boy. Climbing, running, screaming, hitting, riding, throwing, laughing, crying, happy, sad, mad, intoxicating, suffocating, spontaneous boys.
One eats, one doesn't. One loves to read books, the other turns pages. They both like to play outside. They love construction vehicles. They throw balls in the house. They throw food on the floor. They have been known to throw up. This place is a sty. Wouldn't have it any other way. At least they're good sleepers. This wasn't always the case.

The larger one wouldn't sleep for months, except when he was held...tightly. Daughter would hold him all night, every night, tightly, for months, six months, at least. I would hold him for naps, tightly, for hours. Finally, sleep deprivation set in, Daughter, not him. We got on the....internet....spooky. Started to research "sudden infant death syndrome", cause it seemed the larger one slept well on his tummy, but never, ever, ever on his back. We only know this because of "constant vigil". We would place the baby on his belly and then stare at him for the entire time he slept. Just to make sure he didn't stop breathing. Cause we were warned!

Being the "grandmother", I put my babies to sleep on their tummies. What did I know? That was what we were supposed to do. None of them died. All of them slept. But, now, that is the WORST offense a parent can commit. Apparently, the baby will DIE immediately upon being placed on its tummy. The best thing you, as a parent, can do for your child is to develop a misshapen head...from NEVER, EVER laying them on their tummies. This is concrete evidence that you are conforming to the accepted mode of child rearing. Proof that you are a parent extraordinaire! And their heads do eventually revert to "normal". Or is that just creative hair design?

Anyway, Daughter and I began researching, and found the data pertaining to the placing of the infant on it's stomach to sleep and the potential for dying suddenly, unconvincing. There is a HUGE correlation between S.I.D.S. and parental smoking, parental drinking, parental drug addiction, parental neglect, you get the picture...and, just think about the huge blitz to educate on these factors. When I was pregnant, a mere 30 years ago, women still smoked, and drank alcohol, not a worry in world with caffeine, O.T.C. drugs, prescription drugs...do I hear marijuana? There was only the faintest buzz about maternal habits and fetal health. The generation before, my mother's generation was even more "ignorant". Could, just possibly, education and intervention, social programs, increased care and emphasis on healthy-baby practices during pregnancy, infant health care, knowledge being broadcast ad nauseum to the masses, be accountable for the statistical drop in S.I.D.S.? I've read articles about the need for better post mortem reporting. Could this lower the figures even further? Even the S.I.D.S. sites are unable to convincingly demonstrate how or why BACK sleeping is directly responsible for eliminating S.I.D.S. No one knows why it "works". What appears to be provable, is that an infant sleeping on its back is never sleeping soundly. Therefore, the least outside stimulus will awaken the baby. Does this not infer that we are raising a generation or two of sleep deprived people (and I'm not talking about the PARENTS)? Could this not contribute to the increase in autism and A.D.H.D.? Sleep deprivation is huge! These guys are tiny.

I am not advocating disobeying the experts or your pediatrician. I am NOT telling anyone to do ANYTHING! I have no credentials, no degrees, I am basically a moron. I am not saying that S.I.D.S. is in any way a parent's fault. There are hurting, ravaged people who have lost an infant for no discernible reason, and I do not, in any way, ever, ever, mean to imply that they are in anyway at fault. Please, do not misunderstand me. But, when Daughter and Surfer Dude looked at the evidence (and after consulting with me, Grammy, and a few close friends), they came to the conclusion that it was worth the risk to put THIS child to bed on his belly. He slept like a log. Has for years. We are still dealing with the guilt. Huge guilt.

The other thing we found....lots, and lots, of other parents are dealing with the same guilt. And lying through their teeth to their pediatricians...