HOW TO LIKE YOUR KID(s)

I’m trying something new here…a series. Fun! It’s a class assignment; post every day for a week. I have trouble posting once a week, so this will be a challenge. But here we go—on a topic near and dear to my heart. Liking your children.

 

Your kids. Gotta love ‘em. Even though we don’t always like them. A few habits can go a long way in helping us grow a likeable person.

Baby

     *The first chore of childcare is actually an opportunity to show this new little human that you enjoy her company. Diaper changing. Whether it’s a pee or a poop, I see parents rushing through this quality time with baby.

     Instead, before even unpinning un-taping the diaper, tell her what you’re doing. “Uh-oh! Someone needs a change. Let’s get that done before you start to get an owie on your bum.” If it’s a poop, remind her, “That’s okay. Everybody poops!” This isn’t a one-way chat. Give little pauses. Listen. Look into her eyes. In no time, she’ll be joining you. Count the tapes as you attach the diaper. Count the toes inside her socks. Count her legs as you stuffed them into her pants slide the pants back on. Idle conversation during changing time might be a foundation for sharing thoughts with your teens—but let’s not rush ahead, yet.

     Don’t be in a hurry to get through a disagreeable task. Diaper changing is an act of love—real quality time.

    * It’s never too early to start reading to baby. At a month old, my grandson Jax calmed down when his mom or dad read to him during poison hour. {You know that time of day—the same time every day, that baby gets cranky—usually dinnertime. Oh yeah. Poison hour.} Jax especially loved Runaway Bunny in the deeper timbre of his daddy’s voice. It didn’t work every time, of course, but it didn’t hurt, either.

      During Poison Hour when our kids were little, my husband liked to carry them outside, explaining things like the sun’s energy making the boulders around our yard warm and about trees eating the same sun light to grow. {“That’s called Photosynthesis.”}

     Our kids didn’t grow up to be rocket scientists. They didn’t understand these things at the time. But they have grown up to be people we like… 

 

 

It's never to early to include them in family conversations! Here's Robyn, our fifth of five, less than 30 minutes old with her big sis, Jae. (December 31, 1989) That night when the fireworks started exploding, I whispered to her, "Oh, listen! Everyone is so excited you're finally here. The whole world's having a big party!" A story I told her six more times.
At seven, she learned about New Year's Eve.
                                She hasn't quite forgiven me yet.....

                                                                

{Next ~ Toddlers!}

 

Museum Buddies

One of our family’s favorite places, and a true San Diego treasure, is Balboa Park.

Last time Amy and I went {with nine kids} we spent the morning at Ruben H Fleet Science Center. My kids grew up with frequent trips to the Fleet. As a grandparent, annual passes are a great bargain, and all the kids can come with me. There’s always something new, or something we missed on our last visit, or a favorite exhibit we return to again and again.

Jax was already a veteran visitor to Balboa Park, but this was Zeke’s first expedition. A wealth of visual and auditory sensations awaited him. This outing, instead of trying to keep track of all the kids ourselves, we buddied each of the older kids with a younger cousins. Why hadn’t we thought of this before? With Kenzie strapped to her mom, four buddy-pairs toured the Science Center. The one-on-one attention offered the little ones even more fun, and the older ones saw it from a child’s view again.

Buddies for the day....
Amy and Kenzie just hanging out

Shaking the big ball side-to-side makes the marble on the inside spin around the big ball’s circumference. It takes only a little motion to transfer enough energy to make the marble whirl around the big ball. Zeke’s eyes nearly whirled around inside his head!

Kyle & Zeke

Fallon and Jax have fun playing with perception.

Kirstie and Owen experience energy transference

 Josh and Ethan take a spin

Fallon, Zeke, Kyle, Owen, Jax, Kirstie, Josh, & Ethan

Can't wait to go back!

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

And Cannon Makes 14

On October 17, after the perfect storm of labor, our fourteenth grandbaby arrived. A life-long (and pregnancy-long) hypertensive, the doctor induced Jae’s labor to keep both Mom and Baby safe. {Pitocin induction makes for an intense labor.} With Baby facing “sunny side up,” Mom had back labor, too. {If you haven’t had back labor, consider yourself blessed among women. It’s so much more painful!} Then, Jae’s first epidural failed, something her doc had never seen.

But through the exaggerated pain, Jae never begged for a C-section and did not try to pull Sean’s bottom lip over his head. {Please see Bill Cosby: Himself for a full explanation. You won’t regret it.} As a team, they brought Baby into the world au-natural {plus the pharmaceuticals, of course}.

 

We didn’t know if they were expecting a boy or a girl. Even bribes by aunties itching to buy gender-specific baby clothes didn’t sway mom and dad to find out. After Kenzie and Quinn, I was hoping for a girl to round out the playgroup, and make further use of their beyond-cute outfits. But, God has a sense of humor.

Sean met us in the waiting area. “Come on in and meet Cannon Christopher.”

Six pounds-thirteen ounces, nineteen inches long. Hair the color of almonds. Blue eyes, hinting at green—already alive with curiosity. He looks like a little old man. Dad calls him Benjamin Button.

Speaking of nicknames, what do you call a fellow named Cannon? When Papa Dave suggested Boom, Boomer also made the rounds. Mom nixed those right away. Aunt Robyn tried Pac {for Papa’s favorite piece of classical music, Pachelbel’s Canon}. As we get to know him, his nickname will evolve. Until then, Cannon will do just fine.

Welcome home...

 

 

More Catching Up......

In June, Eva (the Pit Bull) got a new kitty (Briscoe)…

  

...and then four more. Robyn named them Jayne, River, Inara and.....Gremlin. I think I'll call him Book. She says we never knew the Shepard's first name, so it COULD be Gremlin.

   

Ethan played baseball this year. During the play-offs, he had the biggest cheering section. Parents, brothers, two sets of grandparents, aunts, uncles, & cousins. Family {insert happy face here}.

Late June the Del Mar Fair made its annual appearance. First, Papa Dave and I went to cruise the hawker-halls, then we went with grandkids. Two totally different Fairs! For years, my favorite fair-game was the dime toss. We usually came away with a few ash-trays (we don’t smoke) and a saucer or, if we were really lucky, a juice glass festooned with cartoon characters. I have no idea how they lost so money on this game that they had to quit. I think I threw $50 a year at those glasses and came away with maybe five pieces! Oh, well. Now we spend our money on ride tickets and the ping-pong ball game. Owen loved the fun house!

 

 

 In July, Amy and Jeremy took the kids to SEP. I think Kensie was the littlest camper this year. After camp, Jeremy had to get back to work in Williams, but Amy and the kids got to hang out with us for a week to meet...

 

....this little gal, before heading home again. Say hello to Quinn—Nick and Marisa’s forth baby, and first daughter! By now, they didn't care either way ~boy, girl~ didn't matter. But this little sweetie, with a calm and happy disposition, is so loved by her big brothers {and the rest of us}. Don't you already feel sorry for her future boyfriends?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can it truly be? Have I actually neglected to tell you about my two newest grandkids? Two-thousand-twelve is nearly bursting at the seams for our family, and there are still more than three months to tuck into our memories.

A quick synopsis:

Last August (2011), the day before my birthday, daughter Amy and family moved to Arizona.

We were sad to see them go, but glad they followed their hearts and the Lord’s leading. With Amy suffering the exhaustion of her first trimester while caring for a toddler, I flew out a couple of days later to help them settle in to their new place, giving me a chance to see the area. Utterly beautiful. It was so hard having them move but I understood the desire to live in a small town.

Well, the Lord has us do things so temporary sometimes, and this was one of those times. They moved back this month, on my husband’s birthday! I love being able to drive five minutes to their house, help unpack for an hour, snuggle the babies {okay, baby and toddler plus three teens!}, and come back home to make dinner for us all, while their kitchen improvements are keeping that vital room out of commission.

While they were in Williams, AZ {aka Radiator Springs; honestly, this is a seriously CUTE little town on Route 66. If you ever get a chance, I highly recommend a visit. Be sure to wander the 140-year-old cemetery, too ….I digress}, in March, I visited when Amy and Jeremy’s fifth baby, McKenzie, was born ….another seriously cute attraction!

 

 

I think this little gal favors her mommy as a baby …

  

 In May, I went to Williams again, this time with my husband ~ aka Papa Dave. We couldn’t miss Kirstie’s high school graduation! She and her [fifty-three] fellow graduates enjoyed a ceremony that, unlike big-city graduations, had time to tell us a bit about each senior as a person, not just a name. Although she had been with them only one year, Kirstie was an active part of the senior class. Two of the cords draped around her neck represent college credit classes. The red one is for donating blood.

  

Kirstie will be moving on to cosmetology school soon. Like her Grandma Cathy (Jeremy’s fabulous mom), she wants to help people in a specific way. Cathy has a full service salon {and spa} in San Marcos CA, the Headquarters. But her heart is in helping those who have lost their hair, through either chemotherapy or a disease like alopecia. Kirstie has seen that there are many ways to minister, and this way she can help gals feel better about themselves during a trying time.

 

To be continued…..

 

    

THROWING IN THE TROWEL

       

     My grandpa was a backyard gardener extraordinaire. From the 1940s through the 60s, he and Grandma owned a double lot on Century Blvd in Los Angeles. Half of their property was dedicated to the home they raised their eight children in, two small yards edged with flowers, and in the back stood a garage that doubled as Grandpa’s woodworking shop. On the other half of the property Grandpa set aside space for the kids to play and another area for his enormous garden, where he grew a variety of vegetables, including lettuces, radishes, tomatoes, and beets. The lavender tops of his turnips enticed four-year-old me to struggle one from the ground one day. After carefully wiping the root on my dress, I bit into it, only to discover a pungent white flesh and gritty dirt, not the sweetness of the same-purple jellybeans it reminded me of. On warm summer afternoons, the red juice of ripe strawberries flowed down my chin as I snacked from the rows while Grandma filled her basket for fresh strawberry pies.  

     These visions of the perfect garden still dance in my mind fifty-five years later. I have often set out to replicate a small portion of this memory in my own yard. I make several trips to Lowe’s to purchase large bags of soil for my containers and small raised-bed garden. I buy pony packs of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and melons. I buy enough Cory’s Snail and Slug killer to last the season. I plant. I water. I watch. I watch as my plants disappear one by one to the birds, snails, and bunnies.

     I rejoice when flowers appear on my tomato plants, and when yellow blossoms unfurl on trailing cucumber vines. I despair when those blossoms vanish during the night.

     By the end of the growing season, if any of my plants survive long enough to produce, I serve my family some of the most expensive produce in the county, nay…in the state! My handful of tomatoes, three thin-skinned bell peppers, and two {lemony tasting} cucumbers last summer cost about $55.00 a pound. My biggest success came from three small jalapeno plants, with a few dozen fruits ripening to a sweet heat.

     As spring dictates, this year I made my annual trips to Lowe’s, planted my dream, and have watered, hoped, and watched. But the snails have figured out how to vault over the Corey’s and devour my melon seedlings and basil. Birds pick at my still-green tomatoes.

     As I watered my dwindling garden this morning, I finally accepted what I have known­­­­ all along­­—I’m not a gardener. It’s time I take advantage of the local farmers’ market each week and spend my gardening time {and money} on other activities.

     Oh, I’ll plant sweet peas with my grandkids, and maybe even buy a potted tomato plant from Costco in the spring, but, as much as it pains me to admit, it’s far past time for me to give up my dream of an abundant garden like Grandpa’s.

     And you know what? That’s okay…..

Still looking forward….

"You know what...?"

Walking hand-in-hand with my not-quite-two-year-old grandson on a sunny spring morning, I remembered the many walks my mom took with my own young son. Each morning, Mom invited Steve for a walk to the corner market to pick up a few supplies for the day, though I think her real purpose was to have her little grandson all to herself for a thirty-minute daily adventure. Holding his hand {that barely stretched from one side of her palm to the other}, they unhurriedly headed down the gravel sidewalk, searching for roly-polies and pretty rocks. I loved hearing their stories when they returned. Mom told me one of her favorite things to do as they walked was to remind Steve how much she loved him.

“You know what?” she asked with a singsong lilt.

“What, Gramma?”

“I love you.”

One morning she asked her daily question, but Steve’s response changed. “I know what. You love me.”

 “But do you know how much I love you?”

“How much?” Steve was eager to learn just how much his gramma—who he adored—loved him.

She stopped, squatted to his eye level, and with her hand that wasn't holding his, she pressed pinkie to thumb. “I love you thiiiissss” {pulling “this” into an eight second syllable as she stretched her pinkie and thumb as far from each other as possible} “much!”

With wide blue eyes, my little son thought “thiiiissss” was about as much love as anyone could possibly hold.  

Remembering the sweet tradition my mom kept with my son, I knew that Zeke was still too young to understand my question, but I just had to ask….

“You know what, Zeke?” …..

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