Grandpa Humor

Have you ever heard of "Grandpa Humor?" Having children makes me familiar with the term... all too familiar. Grandpa humor centers around the act of buying grandchildren large, noisy, and/or obnoxious items from the nearest Wal-Mart and then sending the said item(s) home with the grandchildren immediately upon the purchase. When the grandchildren have been delivered home, the grandpa then later calls the parents of the grandchildren and asks loaded questions such as, "Are you enjoying that new ____ ?" The call is followed by the grandpa having a rip-roaring time laughing at the parents of the grandchildren while blatantly delighting in the fact that the item was never designed to reside at his own house in the first place. Examples of gifts purchased as a result of Grandpa Humor are as follows:

1. Any large outdoor tent purchased along with a simultaneously whispered suggestion of, "That would go well in your bedroom."

2. Large train sets that the parents may or may not suspect have been purchased solely for the accompanying engine noise. Attempts at normal conversation within a proximity of ten feet must be immediately aborted.

3. Difficult to maneuver remote control toys. The harder to operate, the better.

4, Low rider cars with push button Latin music and/or loud electric guitar riffs.

5. Stuffed animals that play music when you pinch their paws... a lack of volume adjustment is a desirable feature. It's also good if the animal advertises "no off switch" and an "unearthly battery life."

6. Baseball bats.

7. Golf clubs.

8. Plastic bowling sets.

and finally...

9. Odd headwear. Odd headwear of any kind really.

Jack loves all of his Papas.

Desiring the Outcome vs. Desirable Outcome - The Difference

Hmm... so lately, Jim and I have been working with Jack in an attempt to accomplish one main goal in our parent-child relationship. We would love for Jack to "do things the first time we tell him to." Oh stopppp.... I hear all of you laughing.... Your laughter indicates that this not an uncommon problem for parents of the world. But seriously... c'mon.... at least try to hide it with a hand over the mouth or something.

Anyway, what have you tried, or once tried, with your child when you told him/her to take a bath and they were still singing and flopping in the water (ummm, let's say an HOUR later) not having washed an inch of skin? Ughhh.... Is there someplace that I can look on Jack's body for a hidden fast forward button? What's the secret, People? Why does putting on a single article of clothing require 30 minutes of repeated (and sometimes not so nice) parental askings?

Here is what we've tried in this negotiation:

1. Out and out anger: "Get that shirt on NOW!" This option is no fun for either party, and obviously, takes awhile to build up to. In any case... not really effective for us.

2. Role Model Inspiration: Here we are blatantly using our youngest, but what can you do? "Jack, show Emma how you brush your teeth. She's little! She doesn't know how yet. Let's show her how you do it so quickly!!!!" This option requires much energy on behalf of the parent. You must force incredible amounts of enthusiasm to enter into your voice. And sometimes... well, on a Monday morning, for instance... this is hard to muster. Regardless, these trials are usually somewhat effective.

3. Competition: "Jack, I bet I can eat my last bites of dinner before you can!! Ready, set, go!" This one is just pathetic, in my opinion. On the off chance you didn't move in slow motion so effectively and he loses, you're screwed. It's a gamble, I tell ya.

4. The Naughty Spot: This one was perhaps a consequence of watching too much television. (i.e. Supernanny once upon a time) In this case, Jack is given his directions, and if he doesn't follow them, we would calmly and without emotion, place him on a "naughty spot" in the house for the exact length of his age, in minutes. Okay, so it works... but isn't there a better way?

5. Ride it out and just see what happens: This one we rarely have the time to employ effectively and was really just used the first time out of curiosity. "Jack go put some underwear on." And then you wait. How long can this possibly take? You don't want to know.

6. Shock Therapy: You know those little shocking collars that dogs wear to keep them within the boundaries of their yards? You should see your face right now. Seriously, go to the nearest mirror. I'm dying.

7. The Reward System: This one has been the most recent that we've tried. I kind of already knew that this system didn't work, but hey... maybe my child will be different. It's a novelty option that loses its glitz and glamour quickly. Jack has a little grid of empty squares on the fridge just waiting and begging for stickers. If he does one of his chores the first time we ask him to.... or wait, better yet.... without us even having to ask him at all.... waaa-laaaah! Sticker city. And some point, when the grid is filled, he gets some kind of reward.

This morning was Saturday morning, and Jim (bless his heart) urged me to stay in bed while he helped Jack with breakfast, etc. Apparently, Jim tried a new option??? I call this one Freedom of Choice. Jack was to pick out his outfit and get dressed for the day. Obviously, this one has some kinks to work out.

(current February weather - 26 degrees, mind you)

I Hear Ya, Mom

Some of my most happy and vivid dreams are centered around life inside a little black (then later green) Gelven street house with hearts on the shutters. The hearts I always thought were a bit hokey, but now that I look back I think, "How completely perfect." That house was all about being loved. Sometimes I drive by just to bring to mind the sounds of the living there. Momma sounds. Here are a few I'll share because I miss them the most:

1. Her sewing machine

2. Late night lullabies of the vacuum cleaner

3. Mom singing in the kitchen.

4. The creaking of her rocking chair

5. Notes on her piano

6. And finally, all of the "I love you's"

I love you, too, Mom. And I know you are needing a grandkid fix. I'm happy to provide it. So until I hear the happy sound of your car driving up... this will get you by.

And look here. This one even has happy sounds for youuuu.

Colbie Caillat - CAPRI

Dear Em,

If the emotion I feel while holding you in the middle of the night - when it's just you and me, little girl, in the dark - were set to music... this is what it would sound like. I love you.

Momma

A Tribute to Danavee

So you know when you and your best friend enjoy the kind of relationship that is defined by knowing each other's thoughts with only a look? Or your brain waves seem to be so peculiarly aligned that you come to work dressed in color coordinated outfits without having planned ahead on the phone? Or you can't be seen in a workroom alone without someone saying, "Where's _______ (insert your best friend's name here)?" Or you just regularly finish each other's sentences so that, to the average outsider, you appear to communicate only in fragments? Anyway... this is a portrait of Danavee and me. And this entry is a tribute to her.

We do finish each other's sentences sometimes... well, except for one afternoon this week. In a case where I was hollering down the school hallway to a coworker in the following way, "Oh I haven't done that in ____," I paused. I was trying to say "eons" or "ages" but after a long day at work, my brain wasn't quite grasping either one of these appropriate choices.

A good friend such as my Danavee, who walked at my side at that particular moment, will sense when my brain has crapped out and she needs to intervene. And she gave it a good honest shot. For that I'll lovingly make fun of her in the following way, and we'll laugh about it tomorrow.

She came to my rescue with, "a coon's age!" Now, if we put it together, here's how that would sound, everyone... "Oh I haven't done that in a coon's age!" Then she looked at me and asked, "Is that what you were going to say?" Really, Danavee? Is that what I was going to say??? What does that even mean? A coon's age...

In any case, I'm adopting the phrase in honor of friendship. Here are a bunch of things that I haven't done in a coon's age:

1. seen the movie Xanadu

2. worn roller skates

3. bought a popsicle from the ice cream guy who drives the Jeep with the unmistakable bell

4. played the clarinet

5. watched a new episode of LOST ... doh! Scratch that.

6. listened to a cassette tape

7. looked decent in a two-piece

8. stuck a one handed cartwheel

9. dressed up for Halloween

10. described my age in terms of halves or three quarters.

Anyway... if you're reading this, that means I miss you, and I hope to see you again in less than __________. Man, don't you just hate when your brain craps out?

High times during playground duty...

Gypped on a Snow Day

Today was a snow day. And, boy, do students (and teachers too, by the way) recognize the value of such a day! It is always very exciting to watch the list of school closings whiz by at the bottom of the television screen. It's a rare thing. Suddenly you are handed an unexpected day off -- one tailor made for sledding, snowman building, and tomato soup eating. A day like this is not to be wasted, clearly. Look. See? The thirteen or fourteen year old punk who stood at the side of the road today and NAILED my passing vehicle with a snowball knows this. He's livin' it up. And initially, I had to remind myself of this. See, at first, I just wanted to pull over and uncharacteristically unload on him every expletive I know. But no. Take a deep breath, Whitney. It's just bigtime snow fun... RUDE and exponentially AGGRAVATING snow fun... but my original point --- that this kid's not sitting idly by and wasting his snow day --- is made.

That's why I felt so sorry for my Jack this morning. Today was his first real snow day, bailing him out of all of his demanding preschool obligations and all. And well, it was just pretty much a waste. Even at five, his economic awareness of "snow day scarcity" is emerging. He's sick, and somewhere around 4 a.m. this morning, I sat with him as he threw up into a small, blue bathroom trashcan that he held in between his knees. He heaved a few times and then cast a wistful look toward his bedroom window. Even in the dark, the ground, rooftops, and sky reflected a pretty white. As sorrowfully as he could, he said these words. "Oh mannn. All the other kids are going to get to go outside and play in the snow. But I have to stay in. I'm sick." Ahhh, yes Jack. The poor kid got gypped, and he knows it.

And when it rains... (or snows, in this case) Little Emma didn't have it all that great either. The two month doctor visit is primarily about painful shots in tiny legs, I've now remembered. And while she doesn't yet realize the poor timing of infant vaccinations on a snow day... a sympathetic Momma does. Gypped.