Monthly Archives: August 2014

Learning to unlearn or a prayer to unplug

I am blessed – truly blessed. I have four grandchildren with another due in August. I have twin girls who will turn nine soon, and two boys six and the youngest to be two in October. I am their babysitter when my daughter and son in law have to work. I am lucky to have been there at their births and watched them develop different personalities.

I have learned, well shall I say I am trying to study up on the new gadgets as each baby comes . Now I do believe in safety and I can strap them in a car seat after much struggling. They are suppose to be high tech and “easy” to use but not so much for me. I have pinched my fingers and asked another mom in a Parking lot if they could help me. This mom was being tugged on and was having a day from hell and didn’t find it amusing that I didn’t know that I could just push a button to accomplish the buckling process. I think she prayed for my grand child that day.

Baby cups. These are a lesson in engineering You have to have the cup of course with matching lid and a plastic piece called a valve. They are spill proof until I put them together. My eight year old granddaughter actually rolled her eyes at me seeing her brother being covered by his morning juice I am no longer required to assemble them. They now are put together and in the cabinet so that the clean outfit I just struggled to put on the youngest stays dry. My daughter and son in law have bought cups that “click” when tight enough. I know they ask God to keep their children hydrated while I have them.

Strollers are no longer cumbersome. They are light weight and fold with ease to place them in the car. That is until NaNa get ahold of them. I had to have a fully upright coach In The back seat because once again I couldn’t find the button to collapse it. I’m thinking that some parent watched me looking for the magical button and was in hysterics and was just laughing so hard as I pulled away with the fully extende baby buggy in the backseat of the car. I’m also sure that I had to be the topic of conversation at the mommy luncheon. They had to have prayed for me, the prayer was a hope that they’d run into me again to have a good laugh! I do believe that prayers were said for my grand babies.

I can not catch on the the “easy” no fuss baby items. They are cute and difficult for me to put together. Maybe I should say and honest prayer for my grandchildren instead of the much used “please God help me get this right” :0)

It is by Gods grace my daughter is in one piece today. We used a car seat that she could get out of in under sixty Seconds. She was in the age group when the first flimsy “umbrella” strollers were the latest rage. Her “sippy” cups spilled at the slightest lean. And guess what?? She lived through it.

I being born in the “olden” days lived through cloth diapers, mothers and fathers who not only smoked but drank, and my car seat was my mothers arm across my chest when she had to stop suddenly. My spill proof cup was the garden hose
in the summer. I didn’t have a bike helmet, knee or elbow pads only band aids and ace bandages to fix what I had scratched, bruised and yes cast for the bones I had broken.

My grand babies have IPads to entertain them. My daughter had Nintento. I had a neighborhood full of kids and outside to keep me busy. My granddaughters google to get info. My child had the internet. We had encyclopedias ,magazines, and the library. On our lane we shared the books and hoped that they would be returned without having a page ripped out for a school project.

My grandchildren are fortunate enough to have their own computers on their own desk within a room designated for learning. My daughter had a desk with a computer

in her bedroom. My place of learning was at the dinning room table with borrowed books and school Issued texts.

It’s rare that kids today have “hand me downs” of any kind. My daughter had a few from her cousins. I was the oldest of four who had everything from shoes, clothes, and toys from my cousins and even Nieghbors.

There’s something to think about. Growing up I knew all my neighbors, they knew me and always kept an eye on me and every other child that would be playing within seeing and hearing range.

So call my untechnilogical childhood what you will I knew of new babies being born and their names not by Facebook or a text but rather by a joyous whisper down the lane. We became sad and women cooked for those who lost family members and when someone said “if you need a thing” they truly ment it. When someone moved in or out it was cause for a picnic to say “hello” or “goodbye” I caught lightning bugs, played man hunt, and learned the facts of life on my “street”. I hope that someday people will have the pleasure of Wanting to go to the library. That street lights instead of alarms from cell phones will signal that it’s time to go home. That neighbors will know each others name and keep an eye out for the kids who will want to go outside to play ball, build forts, and whine when they hear a whistle or their name being called because they need just five more minutes to finish a game that they are in the middle of. That’s my prayer, for us all to just unplug and talk rather than type

The things we bring from childhood

I have my favorite doll and my grandmothers depression glass. I have inherited through my husband at least 100 salt and pepper shakers from the early nineteen hundreds. I look at them from time to time the. Carefully wrap them up and put them away.

I have dishes, glasses, silverware and even my grandmothers coat. I have my fathers army metals and dress uniform. I can’t part from them. I admire the people who placed their imprints on them. I love the thought that they held them.

I have pictures, many pictures. Mom dressed in a communion dress and dad on a pony. They all have their place in my home. Frozen in time their smiles from long ago negate any thoughts of their passings.

I would love to see who would take some of these things to treasure them. My mom gave them to me because “your the only one that would keep them”. And I do. Along with the ownership comes responsibilities Who do I give them to?

My family’s homes are near tidy and well put together. If you walked I to them you’d like them. Just enough pictures and chachkeys to make their abodes perfect. Mine, well is to my liking for the most part. I have a piece of memorabilia in every room. The “stuff” starts conversations and allows the person who owned it to be alive again. I change what is out from time to time. The ones I have a special fondness for rarely see the light of day.

Grandmom’s depression shot glasses only come out on my birthday or when an event in my life is happy. Why? I feel as if I’m having a drink with her. She would have liked that.

My daughter had no desire to have them. “Where would I put them?” And “you know the kids would ruin them!” So my search goes on.

I have not one but two deer heads. My late husband was proud and just loved them. I’ve always hated them and feel as if they are being viewed in his man cave. I feel as if I’m at a wake at the local funeral home. These I can’t stand but can’t part with either.

So using my grandma’s depression shot glass I raise a toast to all of us who love our “things” and have the responsibly to pass them on to an unwilling generation. I just hope the receivers of such gifts understand the responsibility they will have to pass them on to the next generation. But the dear heads just have to go :0)

Life’s unlessons – the addition of kindness

We need to undo things in our lives that make us sad, uncomfortable, and downright miserable. How many time have you heard that??? I subscribe to the method of being as honest as I can be to the person I am talking to, and help when ever I can. I say I am but if truth be told I have bitten my tongue so hard at times I’m disappointed in myself.

I’ve been told to answer “brutally” honest. The door would be open for a truthful conversation. I can’t because I know deep down certain subjects require a soft touch not a bash to the persons sensibility. I say this with as much compassion as I can mister right now.

I’ve been asked how old someone looks after being told they get mistaken for a twenty something “all the time”. I want to live in that world. This person looked ten years older then their true age. Well as long as they’re happy. Age questions plus women times the happiness they feel when told they look youthful equals an ecstatic lady. So the tongue bleeds a little and her happiness out does anything anyone could say.

Weight. I hate when someone asks do I look fat in this. I have steered my fellow ladies into another direction if I feel as if clothes don’t “accentuate” the positive and multiply the negative. If someone shows up in a outfit that makes them feel the best is it honest or cruel to say something unkind to them. I’m feeling better about my dishonesty about not being totally honest.

What it comes down to is being honest and not hurtful. I know people who say nasty things and end it with “well I’m just being honest”! No,
I do believe people are making themselves feel superior. Being hurtful when someone is feeling better than you at that moment. I believe if we lifted each other up instead of tearing one another down we could be more honest and learn to accept some small negative comments to better each other.