Feeling Like Mrs. America

 

It was a great day for playing at the beach. We set up and then headed down near the water to dig and make castles and a lake. We like to make our own little lake to splash in. Our lake was so cool it attracted other kids. One little boy’s name was Liam. Liam was older but he played with us for quite awhile. Then he asked, “What’s his phone number?”  I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly, but he repeated it, and sure enough, he was asking for my grandson’s phone number. I resisted. What was he? Some kind of a toddler stalker?!  Instead, I introduced him to my grandson, Kasen. But he persisted. He  wanted his phone number, and now, sounding a bit irritated, asked if I knew his phone number. Then he explained that he was from Riverside and wanted it so the next time he came to the beach he could call him to play. Ah! Finally it made some sense but still weirded me out a bit. I did not give in.  I told him Kasen did not live nearby and that he would have to call me if he wanted to play because I was the one who lived close by. He didn’t want my phone number.

Kasen wanted to go and play in the water so we left Liam and our little lake and went to play in the waves. Kasen started out pretty timid but gradually he gained courage and we went farther and farther out to encounter bigger and bigger waves. Trust me. I had a firm grip on both of his arms but we ventured out far enough for him to get wet up to his neck. His fear diminished and his delight increased proportionately. If not for my 60-year-old back we could have played in the waves for hours. But what the heart wants the back can rarely support. We headed back to the beach and our little lake.

We played there for quite awhile longer. No sign of Liam. And when I began to feel the effect of the sun on my back and arms we packed up to head home. Kasen did not want to quit but after a lengthy reassurance that we would come again next time he visited we headed home.

On our way down the beach trail we passed a young man standing at one of those work-out stations. He was not working out at the moment. But he was pretty ripped. Kasen saw him and stopped and said, “Hi.”  The young man smiled, but did not respond. When I caught up I smiled and said hello, but I still did not hear him respond. I pointed to Kasen and said, “Mr. Congeniality.” The young man just kept smiling. Kasen took my hand and looked right at the man and said, “This is my Cece.”  We started walking again, and as we left the young man still smiling and saying nothing, Kasen repeated, with more inflexion this time, “ This is MY Cece, my Grandma Cece.”Then he added, “I love you, Cece.”  I don’t care how ripped or young that guy was. At that moment my weak and aching back was greatly strengthened.  I felt like Mrs. America and the coolest person on the beach and crazy with love for this little guy who declares to young men on the beach that I am HIS Cece and that he loves me.   

Indoor Playland and Ice Cream Craziness

Great anticipation grew as I planned a day with my Santa Clarita grandchildren, Kasen, 4, and Jenna who will be one in less than two weeks. Gramasylum was in full bloom as I intentionally drove after work  in rush hour traffic to get there.  It took me three hours to travel the 100 miles. Proving my youthfulness as I  approach a monumental birthday, I listened to a webinar to pass the time. Yes. I, Grama Cece, listen to, and on occasion watch webinars for my own professional development. I try not to watch them when I am driving. The challenge for me is remembering how to download them on my IPhone.

When I arrived in Santa Clarita the kiddos were in the front yard waiting excitedly for me.  I quickly forgot the three hour drive. Kasen started jumping up and down and came frightening close to the curb as I parked the car. Mom was close by monitoring so all was well. Jenna was grinning ear to ear and doing her characteristic point and jab when she wants something  or she wants to go somewhere. I call it the "Jenna Jab" and she gets pretty much whatever she wants this way. After hugs and smooches all around we settled in to the visit. Kasen immediately began planning the next day.

His excitement was displayed in his rapid fire interrogation.
“Where are we going to go, Cece?  What are we going to do? Can we go to a playground, Cece? Can we get ice cream?” Kasen asked.

“Of course! We can do it all,” I respond like any crazy Grama would.

“We will find an indoor playground if it is too hot (which is all the time in Santa Clarita between May and September) and we will find some ice cream,” I said with equal enthusiasm.

The first inkling that I had gone deep into Gramasylum and wondered “what was I thinking” came at the indoor playground.  Such venues being totally new to me this crazy and enthusiastic Grama was totally unprepared. Everybody who uses the playground needs socks. We were all sockless. But of course, they sell socks! How much? Who cares! This is Gramasylum and we were not turning back! They charge for babies over nine months? The Jenna Jab is already underway. How much? Who cares! We were all going in!

The indoor playground had four distinct play areas with lots of kids running back and forth like they had all just been taken off  sugar IV’s. Slides, and crawl tubes, an enclosed kitchen and even a small enclosed trampoline created a playing frenzy of kids. A wide range of ages and sizes comingled. The larger sized ones made the trampoline situation a bit concerning to me.  And the speed and frequency of passing children kept me vigilant in watching Jenna who though a great jabber is new enough to walking to be vulnerable to surrounding motion. The strong breeze of a passing larger child can knock her down. It was while I was watching the traffic in order to keep Jenna safe that I realized I had totally lost track of Kasen! And, a quick scan of the place did not produce a sighting. Sheesh! We’d been in the matrix less than ten minutes and I had already lost one child. I grabbed Jenna in spite of her jabbing to go in another direction and frantically searched every nook and cranny until I finally found Kasen in the corner of the kitchen. But still, there was a moment when I returned to the “what was I thinking” part of my brain. Two small children, indoors, and I can’t keep track of them for ten minutes? How did I do this with three of my own in the outdoors?!  God must have been watching over us on a fairly regular basis.

Several head to head encounters in the trampoline area, two or three near misses with fly by children, and multiple toy grabbing incidents needing intensive parental negotiations using language that I hardly recognized let alone understood well enough to participate, I decided it was time for ice cream.  The promise of ice cream lessened the trauma of leaving such a fun filled place. I think.

We found the perfect place for ice cream. Real ice cream and real inexpensive. Rite Aid. They scooped us up. A way too large cone for Kasen and a small cup for Jenna. I knew I would get the leftovers. $3.58. What a deal after the indoor playground that required a pint of blood from your wallet when you go unprepared. It was after we were all scooped up that I realized there was no place to sit indoors. This was not a restaurant or ice cream parlor. It was a drug store. And it was now 100 degrees outside. Gramasylum strikes again. What was I thinking? Cheap ice cream is no bargain with no place to sit and two children, three and not quite one, with melting ice cream and 100 degrees farenheit.  Before we left the store the cone was already dripping down the sides and the ice cream ready to fall off to the floor. I begged the clerk for another cup to put the cone in to avert the disaster. Then we headed outside.  

Fortunately we had a double stroller and I negotiated both kiddos sitting in it to eat their ice cream. I scanned the area for someplace to sit. Nothing. We walked around the corner and a pet store with a large bird swinging in the window looked like it might work. There were carpeted kitty towers of all shapes and sizes standing outside along the window wall. I found a kitty tower about the right height with a platform about the right size of my backside. I pulled the double stroller over into the shade and sat on the kitty tower. Kasen wanted his ice cream cone. Of course. So I used the little plastic spoon, almost breaking under the pressure, to cut off more than half the ice cream now tipped upside down in a cup in order  to make his cone a manageable size. I had to use my fingers, too. It was then that I realized I forgot to get napkins when we bought the ice cream. Diaper bag in the car, I had nothing. Oh yes. A little sippy cup of water is better than nothing. I opened it and poured some on my sticky hands and dried them in the wind. Finally, we were able to relax a little and enjoy the ice cream. 

This is Gramasylum at its very best. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. I did not spend any time wondering if I could navigate the indoor playground. I did remember or imagine what a challenge it is to do ice cream in hot weather with small children outdoors. I just love these kiddos and if Kasen says,

“Can we get ice cream?”

The answer when you are in Gramasylum is, “Of course!”

And wherever and whatever Jenna  jabs, Cece will find a way to go and to do. This is Gramasylum. Thinking is way down the list when crazy love takes over. And gratefully, God is always watching over us.

Gramasylum's Darker Side

Ok. Gramasylum isn’t  always oozing with giddy joy. There are times when you seriously wonder, “What was I thinking?!” This was one of those times.

Laurel Ana, LoLo, had stayed overnight with us on several occasions before. She loved coming to CeCe’s house and usually did not want to leave. But now she was showing signs of attachment and separation anxiety of late so I knew it might not be the same. She wanted to come this time, but she wanted her mommie or daddy to come with her. Wasn’t gonna happen.  Mommie was away on business and daddy had school. So LoLo was going to spend Sunday and Monday night with Cece. 

The complicating factor was that LoLo had also recently acquired a new skill. Mommie and daddy don’t know where she learned it, but it went like this. She would purse her lips, cross her arms tight, say, “I want _____”  (fill in the blank), then raise one leg bent at the knee, stomp it down hard, and just as the shoe hit the floor she would say, “Now!” The timing was impeccable. The message was quite clear. Whatever she wanted she was NOT waiting for.  Where she learned it I do not know either. Let’s just say though that it looked like she had practiced a lot.

On this particular occasion the new skill showed up in the middle of the night. Oh, she was priming for it earlier. She expressed the very normal desire to have her mommie before she went to bed, but it was a more gentle demand with just a slight whimper. Then at 1 a.m. she woke up crying. The crying turned to screaming—the kind of screaming that sounds like a child is being tortured and someone should call the police. I was afraid my neighbors might! No matter what I tried to do to console and comfort her it only escalated. So there we were in the middle of the hall and it began. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. She screamed, “I want my mommie.” Then the dramatic pause, the leg lifted bent at the knee and the foot came down with impeccable timing just as she finished her demand, “Now!” This was repeated several times. I tried to explain to her all the reasons she could not have her mommie now. This all interspersed with the police-summoning type screams. I was beside myself.  This is when I began to wonder. “What was I thinking?” Crazy oozing love, insane devotion, barrels and barrels of fun with Cece normally, but at 1 a.m.  it did not make any difference.

I had observed her parents helping her calm down on several occasions before. So I tried that.

“LoLo,” I said calmly, “would you like me to help you calm down?”

She replied with her arms crossed, “ I want my Mommie to help me calm down.”

And you know how the drill goes. She raised her leg with knee bent and brought it down as hard as she could and said, “Now!”

I realized at this point I had entered a darker corner of Gramasylum. No amount of reasoning, no amount of love, no amount of fun and games was going to deter this little woman from what she wanted. I knew that only two things would bring an end to this real life nightmare. I could get in the car and drive an hour to take her to daddy or I could let her scream and stamp herself to sleep. The signs of fatigue were beginning to show up. I did not want to be stubborn just to win a power struggle but my grama gut said that she could not keep this up much longer and that we were going to get through this alive. Exhausted, and I might have to explain the screams to a police person if they showed up at our door, but I made the decision to put my bet on her falling asleep before I would be in jail. We would make it. And deep in my heart I knew the oozing love, insane devotion, barrels of fun Gramasylum would return. This little dark corner was not going to take over my Gramasylum haven.

I told her she could call her mommie and daddy in the morning. Of course, she wanted to call them, “Now!” In faithful Gramasylum love tons I explained that that was not going to happen in the middle of the night. But I assured her that as soon as we slept a bit and woke up, we would call mommie and daddy.

She did eventually fall asleep. Sitting up on the love seat. Whimpering, “mommie, now” with her little leg  twitching in memory of the foot stamping routine of the night. Once the whimpering and the twitching ended, I gently laid her down on the love seat and went and collapsed on the other couch where I could keep an eye on her and be sure to be ready to make that phone call as soon as she woke up. It was about 2:30 a.m. The entire incident lasted just an hour and a half. I can’t remember if I slept after that. I just remember wondering, “what was I thinking?!” Gramasylum residency is better at feeling than thinking. So much love and affection for this child resides in me that I will try just about anything. Once.

She woke up in the morning. No screaming. No foot stomping. No demand for anything now. We called mommy and daddy. She was going to be all right. But even Gramasylum has its limits. I told her father that he needed to come and get her. I did not want to put her through another night like the last one and I didn’t think I would be very reliable if I went another night with little sleep and a lot of twitching. I said I would be glad to come to their house and take care of her the next day but I did not want to risk another night like this one we had just (barely) survived.

That was over a year ago. Since then, LoLo has stayed at our house overnight again. It took awhile for me to regain my Gramasylum confidence for overnighters! Eventually she stayed for a whole weekend. No pursing of lips, stamping of foot, or demands for anything “now.” I guess that was a phase. And this time when daddy returned to get her, she did not want to go home! Gramasylum returned full speed ahead.

I am sure there will be other times when I find myself doing something with my grandchildren, barely surviving, and wondering , “What was I thinking?!”  I think I will just purse my lips, cross my arms, and say, “I want Gramasylum,” and will raise my bended knee and stamp  my foot hard and say, “now!”

 

Signs of Residency in Gramasyulm

It actually takes two signs simultaneously. When a son-in-law looks at you and just shakes his head and at the same time a grandchild is laughing and squealing with glee, you probably have entered Gramasylum. Of course, in my case my residency is confirmed by the fact that my son-in-law usually says something like, “I am afraid he (my grandson) does not have a chance. He will turn out to be crazy like you.”  His fear does have some legitimacy. My daughter, the child's mother, shows some evidence of the genetic marker. My son-in-law is doubly concerned.

So what are some of the signs? Here are just some of the more obvious ones.

1.       After working and primping your whole life to be gorgeous you begin making hideous faces and dressing in strange costumes or allowing them to "decorate you" in order to see their smiles and hear their giggles. Beauty and dignity have nothing on pleasing these kids.

 

2.       When you have spent half of your life parenting--getting up regularly and often at night to take care of children when they are young and then getting up regularly and often at night wondering where your children are when they are older—when you can finally sleep, you begin getting up very early in the morning in order to let your now grown children that kept you up half your life, sleep. This is certifiably crazy!

 

3.       When you work hard six days a week and have only one day off and you take that one day and get up at 4:30 a.m. in order to drive two hours to take care of a small child for nine hours only to  get back in the car and drive two hours (maybe three in bad traffic) back home. This is the definition of insanity.

4.       And finally, the dead ringer—when they have been at your house for a day or two or three and your house looks like a hurricane went through, you have been up and down off the floor so much and carried and swung and frolicked so far that every muscle in your body is aching, you are close to falling asleep walking toward the bedroom, and yet, you are on the verge of tears because they are gone.

If you have ever done or experienced even one of these crazy things, you are cordially invited to celebrate with me as a honorable member of Gramasylum. Crazy gramas unite!

What have you done that is a sign of your residency in Gramasylum. Share below with pictures!