Twelve Days of Grandkids

We are so happy to be healthy and well enough to watch our grandsons while our daughter and her hubby take their first vacation in years. They’ll be heading to Hawaii for nearly two weeks. Not only are they going to be nearly five thousand miles away, but six hours earlier than us on the clock. This is for real. We’re on our own.

We are looking forward to some real quality time and making fun memories with the boys. They are five and seven, in preschool and elementary, so we are just kind of stepping into their schedules to make it better for them; but also, I think better for Daughter and SiL’s anxiety levels.

I’ll be sharing some of the events of the two weeks with you. I’m sure it will all go smooth as silk.

Day 1

We show up a day early to get the lay of the land and instructions. I am left alone with the grands so they can do errands and pack; and within an hour, the boys are beating the stuffing out of each other.

It doesn’t really matter who or what started it. They’re just doing it for attention, I think. They’ll stop if I ignore them, I think. First mistake, and our daughter and her husband haven’t even left yet.

They don’t stop. Both are scratched and bleeding and the little one picks up a rock and a stick and says, “I’m going to smash your head in.” The older one says, “I hate you. I’m going to kill you.”

Brotherly love, am I right? I mean they usually get along great; but right then I had to step in to prevent possibly lethal levels of bloodshed.

Little starts hitting everything he can with said stick in a blind rage. Oh, I’ll just re-direct his anger, I think.

“Hit the garbage can top, it makes a fun noise.”

“NO!”

“Stop hitting the windows and the table, you’ll damage something.”

“I want to damage everything.”

Who was this evil child and what did he do with my sweet boy?? Word of advice, never play tug of war for a large stick with a raging five-year-old. No one wins that.

Eventually I am able to separate the boys and think, “Oh shit, is this going to happen for the next two weeks? It won’t be good if my daughter and her husband come home to a crime scene.”

Suddenly I hear something. I go running into the room in a panic, and there they are. Playing Hot Wheels. Big is showing Little something really cool. Little wants a turn and Big lets him.

They’re back! My little angel boys are back. Whew. Crisis averted. This time.

Day 2

It’s a school day. Daughter and Hubby left for the airport an hour ago, and we have to get breakfast into these boys, get them dressed and out the door for the bus (Big) and drive to preschool (Little). Big puts on a pair of shorts. It’s forty degrees outside.

“Come with me a sec,” I say to him.

I walk outside and he follows and then stops short. “No, it’s too cold outside.”

“Oh! Well, what can you wear or take to school in case it’s still cold later?”

Begrudgingly he answers, “Well, I can wear a light jacket.”

“Perfect! I’ll put some sweatpants in your backpack in case you want to change out of shorts later.”

I think I won that one.

I also won big Oma points for taco Tuesday. These boys can eat, and they will eat anything and everything. A few years ago, I was on the phone with Daughter, and she said to them, “Enough, now, put it away. If you’re still hungry we’ll find something else for you.”

“What are they eating?”

“They almost finished a jar of caperberries. That’s a lot of salt.”

Caperberries?? I had to look it up. Apparently, they are oversized capers, along the lines of if an olive married a pickle and had a baby. They also love olives and pickles, so not surprising after all.

Day 3

The school bus is coming in fifteen minutes and it’s a couple minutes’ walk to the corner. Big is in his pajamas kicking a soccer ball around the yard. His hair is sticking straight up, and he has Apple Jacks in his teeth. I have flashbacks of my kids missing the bus and having to be driven to school, always a nightmare when you have to be at work on time.

Now I don’t have anywhere else to be but I’m still getting stressed about the bus. Can’t tell you why, some kind of weird child-raising PTSD thing, I guess.

So, I hold a piece of gum over his head. Not literally; I tell him Grandpa won’t give him a piece of gum after school if he doesn’t get dressed, brush his hair and teeth and get his shoes on by the time I count to 60. Not reasonable, I know; I’m not proud of it.

And it doesn’t work anyway. I was getting cocky when he went upstairs only to find him back outside in front of the house watching the street. Still in pajamas.

I’m now visibly quaking with anxiety, but I remember not to show that to the kids. It will either freak them out and cause irreparable emotional damage that will require years of therapy and some substances, or it will let them know they have the upper hand, and I will be the one seeking help and taking drugs.

“Hey, come on, you’ll miss the bus, did you brush your teeth at least?”

“My teacher is going to drive by! My teacher! I can’t, I have to say hi to her!”

“She’s not going to be so happy if you’re late for school just because you wanted to say hi.”

That kind of works. With a sour puss he stomps upstairs and comes back dressed in two seconds.

“I don’t have time to brush my hair or teeth! Hurry up, Oma, I’m going to miss the bus!”

Sigh.

Day 4

Big comes into our bedroom at 6 a.m. He says the dreaded words, “I don’t feel good.”

I, remembering how this goes, put my hand on his forehead. I don’t detect a fever and breathe a sigh of relief. I find myself sighing a lot these past few days.

We cuddle for a while. Little comes in and says the other dreaded words, “I had an accident.”

Sigh.

We get out of bed and come downstairs. They get busy working on their Lego project, and I start searching the house. SiL gave me great notes about the kid’s schedules, the location of their T-ball practices, and how the lawn mower works. Nothing about a thermometer and children’s Tylenol.

Never fear, Big knows where all the dangerous stuff is.

I’m looking at some newfangled thermometer and thinking, this is too big to put where I put it when my kids were sick, and I can’t see how it’s going to fit in their mouths or under their armpits either.

“What do I do with this thing?”

“You just put it against my forehead,” says Big. He’s very patient with me, thank goodness.

101.

That’s not good. I try Little. 101. The thing must be broken. I try it on my forehead and Grandpa’s. 98.6.

Memories of dosing up my kids and sending them to school so we can get to work creep in with a huge amount of horror and guilt. I’m only admitting this to you because it’s way past the statute of limitations on being a bad parent; and as a teacher, I hated parents like me. Don’t be like Maureen. Of course, I don’t have to go to work so no need to even think that.

I call Big’s school. It’s been long time since I called to let a school know about a sick kid and the message that I leave is awkward and bumbling and I forget to leave my name and phone number. That means I have to call back and leave a second message.

Having fevers does not affect their appetite or their need for board games. It’s going to be a busy day. I am going to spend it with my fingers crossed that they’ll wake up tomorrow with 98.6.

Day 5

They do. It’s a bonafide miracle.

Big is ready a half hour early to get on the bus. This kid LOVES school and missed a day so is very excited. Besides, it’s Tie-Dye day. And guess who signed up to help fifteen kids wrap a white tee shirt in rubber bands and squirt indelible ink all over them.

When I was teaching Kindergarten, the parents ran Tie-Dye day and I never paid attention to the process. Now I’m in charge. Crap. Thankfully, the teacher is one of those very organized humans and there are two other women to help. It is a warm, sunny day and we are able to do the deed outside in the yard. It goes fairly well. We only lose two bottles of dye down the grated drain and I’m the only one whose hands are stained green, because the kids loved wearing gloves and I couldn’t open the bottles with mine on.

Day 6

What a day! We go to a minor league baseball game, spend hours at a park with the grands’ cousins and then go out for a delicious dinner. It is hot at the game but that doesn’t stop the kids from eating more French fries than one would think is humanly possible.

Big wants a Coke at the stadium. They come in two sizes: Elephant and Blue Whale.

“No,” I say. “Too much sugar and caffeine.” So, his auntie buys him a lemon ice instead. Okay, at least no caffeine.

The sun is blazing directly on us and there’s no breeze. I think they designed the stadium that way so that people would have to buy more drinks. It works.

After a pretty exciting game, we’re not ready to say goodbye to cousins so we head to a park with a very cool playground. The kids run around, roll down the hill dozens of times, climb all the climby things and slide down all the slidey things for hours.

We all get hungry. “Let’s go out to dinner,” I say.

Cousin says, “My little one is done, we’d love to but it’s better if we just head home.”

How did Hubby and I not remember that good idea? Dinner goes great though, and Little is laying down on the booth seat by the time we’re ready to go.

Perfect, I think. He’s going to go right to sleep as soon as we get home!

If you’ve never tried to get an overtired five-year-old to brush his teeth, I recommend you try to ride a tiger instead. A really angry one.

It doesn’t go well. For any of us. I honestly don’t know how he had the energy to melt down that hard for that long. It goes on to the point where Big is upset too, because he wants to go to sleep and can’t with all the racket. He finally finds his father’s noise-cancelling lawnmower headphones and nods off. Little finally wears himself out and is still hitching in his sleep a half hour later.

At least they’ll sleep in, I think.

Day 7

Ha. They’re up at six a.m. sharp on Sunday morning.

Little is still tired and starts off the day like a crank pot. But we are able to re-direct him and by afternoon, we take them to the nearby playground.

It’s 85 degrees. I will never understand why playgrounds are not designed with at least partial shade. There’s no real reason to bake children while they socialize, but it seems to be the way of playgrounds. We run out of water to drink in a half hour and the water fountain at the park does not work. Of course.

The kids want to sit in the shade instead of playing. We try everything. Grandpa takes them to the field to play soccer. Ten minutes. I show off my swing skills and Big joins me. Five minutes. We challenge them to do all the activities on the playground. Maybe fifteen minutes. Altogether, we last an hour before we give up.

It’s National Burger Day and Grandpa whips up some great cheeseburgers on the grill. We hold a movie over their heads: showers, p.j.’s, teeth brushed, movie.

It’s so quiet for the next hour and a half and then they go right to sleep. Ahhhh. I remember why someone invented the television.

Day 8

We get invited to a lake party. Boats, swimming, lots of grandkids. It’ll be so much fun for all of us! And it is. Our grands wind up being the only kids there, with three sets of grandparents to dote on them. They play in the lake for hours and I only have to wade in and rescue one runaway floaty.

The boys eat more popcorn, chips, M&M’s, fudge, crackers, cheese, and salami than anything, but at least I am able to keep them away from soda and juice. Small wins, you know? Besides, it’s a party; all bets are off.

The highlight of the day is the motorboat ride around the lake. Big gets to drive the boat almost the whole time with very little help from the Captain. Even Little gets a turn at the helm.

The almost-meltdown on the ride home is usurped by spa music, which Big calls sooooooooooo boringgggzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Music to soothe the savage breast and beast, depending on who you ask and how much you did that day.

Day 9

Glorious day, both the boys go to school and are as happy about it as we are.

I go for a long run while Grandpa does laundry and straightens up the house; and then we pack a beach bag and head out for a few hours of grownup fun. We walk the entire length of the beach and back, then settle down for a light repast and some quiet reading time. Lovely.

The boys come home from school and play so nicely. Big wins a game of Battleship against Grandpa, who teaches him the names of each boat as they go. They run around outside while I whip up a nice dinner. Their mom and dad call as we sit down to eat, and they chat for a few minutes. Then the boys gobble down dinner and go back to playing.

A neighbor comes over with all the goods from their refrigerator, freezer and pantry because they are moving away tomorrow. Their son is Little’s best friend and they play for nearly an hour as a farewell. Grandpa takes a photo of the BFF’s and then bedtime goes so smoothly, I find myself waiting for something to go wrong. It doesn’t.

Day 9, check!

Day 10

It’s a big day for Little. He has Kindergarten screening so the teachers can see what he can do before he starts school. I told my daughter and her hubby I’d do some SAT practice with him so he would beast the assessments. I was kidding. But I found myself all the past week doing a lot of teacher talk every chance I got.

“What letter is that?” “Can you count to 100?” “What does that sign say?” “You should write your name on that drawing so we remember who did it.”

And then we cram for the tests in the car on the way to the screening appointment. “The teachers might ask your address, do you know it?” He did. “What about your birthday?” Nailed it.

“How about who is in your family?”

“Mama and Dada. Sometimes we call her ‘Mom.’”

“Do you know their names?”

“Sometimes Dada calls her Melissa.”

“Okay! Good! And what does Mama call Dada?”

A pause from the backseat booster. Should I be worried?

“Hon!”

Yep, that’ll do.

The parents and I get the spiel about how the school works while the kids are going through their assessment. When they’re done, they spend time charging around the playground together. By the end of the hour, Little has two new best friends, and I grab one of the moms to get her contact info to give my daughter.

Success.

Day 11

It’s our last full day together. One more sleep and Mama and Dada will be back. I’m feeling a lot of feelings about that. I’m glad they got away to spend some grownup time together; I’m so happy we got to spend a solid amount of time with these kids, I know one day they will have fond memories; I’m tired from sleeping, not well, in someone else’s bed.

I bring Little to school and stay to read two books to his class as a guest reader. Ten Apples Up on Top and Put Me in the Zoo are real hits with the preschool set.

I’m mobbed with Littles who all want my attention; they know a grandmother when they see one. I get dragged to one side of the room to help a Little color a snowflake, pulled to the other end of the room to make shaving cream shapes, asked about the color of my house, and followed around by a little boy who wants to tell me all about the puzzles he does and books he reads. I was tired when I got there, but their buzzing energy level lifts me up like no cup of coffee could. I stay almost an hour.

Both boys will be at school until after four, so we head back to the beach. It’s another lovely afternoon of reading and snoozing.

We four go out to dinner to celebrate our last night together. Mama and Dada are coming home tomorrow afternoon. We go to a restaurant with an outdoor patio and it’s just a perfect way to end this precious time we’ve had.

Friends come over for game night after the boys go to bed. Supposedly to bed. They don’t go to bed.

They come down three times with three different excuses. I know they just want to hang with the big kids and see what we are doing. But it’s a school night, so we keep sending them up until finally they conk out. Yay, a bit of grownup time! You forget how important it is until you don’t have it for a couple of weeks.

Day 12

We made it! We all made it. Mama and Dada call from the airport to say that they had such a good time and are ready to get home and back to their lives. I wonder if they’ll still say that in a week. Probably already planning their next get away, since they saw the boys had so much fun with Grandpa and Oma.

We spend the morning tidying up the house, putting fresh sheets on Mama and Dada’s bed and packing up our stuff.

After lunch, I go to Big’s classroom to do a guest reader thing. They are interested in me being a writer and ask a lot of questions about books and stories. The only thing I miss about teaching is being with the kids all day. And this is exactly why.

We make a big dinner and wait for Mama and Dada to arrive. I think everyone is pretty exhausted but also very happy.

And we’re home

The garden has been busy doing its job while we’re away. I cut flowers to put in the house, water the vegetables and refill the bird feeders. We put everything away and sit for a minute outside in the quiet greenness of our lovely yard and reflect.

“Good job, Grandpa,” I say.

And I mean it. We kind of rock, don’t you agree?