Dennis is coming!

My oldest grandson, Dennis, will be in town tomorrow for a few days. Everyone is giddy with excitement and David is absolutely beside himself.

All my young 'uns are special, but Dennis is the first born. Witnessing him come into the world was a blast of reality for me: that next generation taking his first breath. A feeling beyond words, comparable only to the birth of my own first child.

The first time he said "Nana" he had me wrapped around his finger. I bought him his first little two-wheeler with training wheels.

We are family, I got both my daughters with me

Long title, paraphrasing that 1970s Sister Sledge song, but it has been a long road for Diana (the eldest), Virginia (DP's) mother, and me to get to where we are today. Learning to adjust to our respective family roles, which will always be a work in progress.

I am proud of the accomplishments of both daughters: Diana for establishing and maintaining a successful business and Virginia for having served her country in the U.S. Navy, getting her life back on track after being diagnosed with bi-polar syndrome, and ultimately recognizing the importance of her son (DP) coming to live with me.

Both daughters are contributing in their own way in helping me to provide a solid foundation of family love and respect for David.  And in case I don't tell them enough: Thank you, I love you.

Families and stories of families

I am sharing my latest Minnesota Spokesman article on my blog, just in case you don't get the paper. This article is particularly special, because four years ago on July 21, my Mother "went home" to join her family. There were nine brothers and sisters. Remembering her and our family inspired this article.

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Holidays and summer are the center of a child’s memories. I was moved by the genuineness of this quote: “Nothing is more powerful than the memories created by a child's experiences.” (www.westarkchurchofchrist.org).

We are adults, but we hold tightly to childhood moments. For me, it was family get-togethers. Every other year relatives would arrive from Michigan or we would drive there. Anticipating that caravan of cars pulling up and relatives pouring out, signaled major house cleaning, grocery shopping, and deciding who got bumped from a bedroom. On the upside, family visits meant crisp, new summer outfits (sandals, socks, shorts or pedal pushers, and sleeveless blouses), none of which was worn before special outings with the folks. The closer the date, the greater the anticipation; the greater the anticipation, the harder it was getting to sleep. I don’t know if I was more excited about the relatives coming or the new clothes. They were a package deal. 

There were favorite cousins and so-so cousins and there were favorite aunts and uncles, but when our family got together, there was no distinction. There was lots of laughter and family love. With nine siblings reminiscing who did what when, there were tall tales and different views of the same situation. Accuracy lay with whoever captured the audience first.  Mind you, there was discipline. Every last one of the cousins knew “how to act.” Forgetting those rules laid out days before the gathering brought embarrassing consequences. When Mom gave that “look” to my brother and me, time froze. Not everyone noticed her subtle warning, but we did and we knew it meant trouble. I am pretty sure Mom learned the skill from her mom, because Granny could stop a clock, too! 

Granny was our widowed matriarch. She wasn’t overly demonstrative; her affection came through her cooking—without recipes. Granny loved the outdoors and would spend hours gardening and fishing, as did all her children and now, many of her grandchildren. Sometimes, while Mom was at work, Granny and I would get our cane poles and a bucket, board a bus from the North side projects, and go to Theodore Wirth Park. We’d fight mosquitoes in the woods to dig worms, and then fish from the lake shore all day. Unfortunately, the high-pitched whine of just one mosquito, to this day, drives me nuts and I’ll be hunting and slapping for hours. But, I remember how that little plastic yellow and red orb would twitch, then bob, then plunge beneath the water’s surface and I smile, just like Granny did as she pulled a sunny from the water. 

As a child, to me there was nothing unusual about our family: mother and grandmother heading the house. There was nothing “broken” about us. Each condition and every experience comprised the tapestry of my childhood memories; they influenced how I raised my children and now my child’s child. 

Your memories are special. There is a certain benefit gained when the grandparent talks about family, it is a gift that can outlast any video game or DVD. Just as when Granny told me her stories, an account of my life as the grandparent introduces new realities to my grandson.  

It is sad to think that the humanness of family contact is yielding to our preoccupation with texting and social networking. True, it is easier and quicker to punch a quick message on the keyboard and the Internet does help our society to reach out in new and amazing ways. But those shortcuts can rob us of the richness of making time to reach out and be with a loved one or appreciating the look on a child’s face when we compliment them for having a nose like great-grammas’, eyes like Aunt Carol’s, or creative skills like their mom or dad.  

The events from your childhood that did or did not work are do-over opportunities for you and your grandchild. The time you spend together can be a foundation for treasured memories.

My grandson still talks about our visit to a park where he fed some ducks and named them after movie characters we’d seen earlier that day. That was over seven years ago. I captured the moment in a photograph; he captured it in his heart.

Take aways:

1.   -    “It's surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.”
Barbara Kingsolver, author. 

2.    -  Plan some one-to-one time—just you and your grandchild—with a picnic on a blanket beside Minnehaha Creek or fishing at Theodore Wirth Lake. Nothing elaborate sandwiches and a thermos of juice or Kool-Aid would be just fine. After all, it’s the company, not the cuisine that counts.

-A helpful read:  The Joyous Gift of Grandparenting: 101 Practical Ideas & Meaningful Activities to Share Your Love, Doug and Robin Hewitt.

You can do it!

Our own Discovery Channel

Our man-made pond and waterfall attracts a lot of birds and wildlife, in spite of the tall privacy fence. Somehow, little four-legged critters  find their way into the yard and raise families. They have refuge under the deck. Heaven only knows what we'll find if and when we ever lift the deck boards. For the past couple of years we've had several families of rabbits,  red squirrels, a raccoon, and once I saw a fox running outside along the fence. We've also seen herons flying by and red-tailed hawks circling overhead, so that took care of the rabbits and squirrels. There are deer, but fortunately they cannot get into the backyard. Diana, the oldest daughter, calls our little sanctuary the backyard Discovery Channel.

A few days ago, and again today, DP saw his first wild beaver. He (DP not the beaver) was so excited and I was excited for him. The bodacious rodent was sprawled out on our little bridge in the yard, relaxing and sunning itself. DP and I sat in the window for awhile watching birds washing in the waterfall and dragonflies darting in and out among the cattails and waterlilies. He likes to guess the names of the birds. We finally went outside to chase the beaver away. I stood on the edge of the deck and the beaver just lay there. I finally started yelling and clapping my hands, believing the intruder would escape through an opening along the fence. Instead, it jumped, turned, ran toward us to dash under the deck. I jumped and DP made a mad dash for the house. Mind you, DP had suggested we let Zoe (the Shitzu) give chase. Yeah, right. Zoe just stood in the doorway barking. So much for the watchful hound!!

The times, they are a changin'

Ever have one of those weeks? The past few days have been hot and muggy.  I can deal with hot, but Judith does NOT do well with muggy. I prefer cold and wind chill, where I can come inside and be comfortable. But hot and muggy seems to permeate everything, with no escape. Temperatures are steadily in the 90+ degrees and at least 70 percent humidity. Everything outside is heavy with dampness and inside comfort is struggling to maintain. I refuse to push that airconditioner any lower than 77 or 78 and the electricity bill is the best incentive.

DP is finished with summer school, his friends are all in summer program activities, so he's been in the house a lot of the time to escape the heat. The walls are closing in!! Okay, enough complaining about conditions over which I have no control and on to things over which I DO.

Last week, I realized it was time for DP to start doing more with household chores and "yardening." Up until now his responsibilities were simple: clean the cat box, take out the trash, make his bed, and empty the dishwasher. As with people DP's age, every chore request was a major imposition, so rather than keep after him and out of frustration I would just give in and do it myself. The result: most of the things I did not do went undone. Friends and family kept saying he was old enough and capable enough to take on more responsibilities in the house and yard; both daughters kept reminding me that when they were his age, they were helping with the cooking and the cleaning; in other words, I was way too easy on him. I confess I kept seeing him as that three year old on the cover of this blog.

His responsibilities are now stepped up to  pulling weeds (big backyard---lots of weeds), vacuuming the livingroom and family room, and picking up his bathroom and bedroom. I am very impressed with the results. To quote Bob Dylan, "The times, they are a changin'." And because I have seen what he is really capable of doing, my expectations are a changin', too. Yaay, DP and yaay, me!

The pint-sized "Perry Mason"

Thanks to some wonderful and very wise feedback on my latest post, I am seeing how DP acts like a lawyer, this explains why he questions everything and insists on arguing his "case" regardless the consequences. Now I know how to counteract rather than react (?).

If I understand the advice correctly,  DP exhibits "gifted child" personality traits. Now pieces of the puzzle are beginning to fall into place. It also means it is more important than ever for me not to argue, to stand firm, to be consistent with discipline, and to dial back on always explaining my every move. In other words, like it or not, do it because I said so. He will always be on the look out for the weakest link in every counterpoint, just like an attorney. But he is still just a child in spite of his wanting to act like a grown up.

Come to think of it, I remember when a few days after he came to live with me, he got upset over something I'd asked him to do and questioned me. I explained my decision and he countered with an argument that implied he and I were equals! Whoa, buddy! And that's when I sat Master DP down and gave him the ground rules of this household, which included yes ma'am, no ma'am, and addressing my adult friends as Miss Jo Susan or Mister James.

As always, Okey doke, it's You and me, Lord!

Okay, Lord. Give me strength and patience...

And if it ain't too much to ask, could You hurry up??

After today's fiasco, DP and I are in an emotional stand-off. Who blinks first? I am tired of being angry, but still trying to stand firm. Tired of trying to help him see the error of his ways, but still hoping SOME of what I'm saying will sink in.

A friend just emailed me with a suggestion to enroll him in gifted classes. Yep, sounds good. As a first step: Does anyone know where I can get his IQ tested?

If I just keep busy and keep moving forward with good intentions I can be reassured that "This too shall pass."

What to do with a "do-over"

DP continues to test boundaries, acting out in ways I can only assume boys his age are wont to do. Today I went back to school to pick him up for disruptive behavior. I am still wondering what the heck is going on and what kind of corrective actions are required.

But, wait! There appears to be an upside. The teacher said he is extremely intelligent, has above average math skills, and does exceedingly well at reading and writing. She firmly believes he acts out because he is bored. My reaction? First, my chest puffed out, that is my grandson! Then the chest went back to normal. He was acting out again. That is my grandson. What to do. 

Familial pride aside: Just how intelligent is he? His mother went through similar situations in school and I later learned she was bored, too. So, since this is my "do-over" opportunity, what is supposed to happen next? Private school is financially out of the question. If I don't act now and do the right thing, there's gonna be a bumpy road ahead.

It is all a part of the plan

Sometimes, in the early morning or the evening when the house is still, I think about how God has a plan and DP is a part of that plan. I remember how I thought everything was perfect: a successful business, a long-standing marriage, and all the material things I thought I ever needed. Then the bottom fell out. The marriage ended, the business ended, and Mom, my role model, passed away.  I was an emotional dishrag; I felt I just could not take on one more thing. I went to work, came home, and hid out in my bedroom. I couldn't cope anymore. Then came DP.

At first the idea was beyond comprehension. Nope, can't do it; sorry. I prayed and cried and prayed some more. If not me, who? Nope, sorry, can't do it. More prayer, more tears, more prayer. Everyone had different advice about what I should do. But in the end, it was all up to me. I knew the decision I'd been wrestling with had been there all along. Yes.

The  little guy has plenty of antics, and yes sometimes he does push my patience to the limit, but I wouldn't change a thing. He gets lonely, because it is just the two of us. He entertains himself talking to Zoe (the dog) or Serene (the cat) and he sings all of the time WAY off key, but it works for him so it's okay with me. Other times he is in the family room playing out a Star Wars battle scene as only a child with limitless energy and imagination can do.

I don't always say the right thing or think before I speak and sometimes I am far too irritable. I regret those times and apologize; DP is a forgiving and trusting child, so I trust he understands. (Sometimes I see an old man's soul in that little boy's body.) Friends ask how things are going with DP and me; I play it off and grumble but those who really know me see beyond the facade. You know what? Nothing compares to those moments when he comes into my office while I'm working, puts his arm around my neck, kisses my forehead, and says "I love you, Nana" or "I really need a hug." At those times I know he means it, I feel it, and I know it truly is all a part of God's plan.