A Four Year Old Asks The Six Million Dollar Question

The latest cause for Gramasylum arrived almost five months ago. Colette Rose, is number four grandchild so I have not had the concentrated time with her that I had with her sister Laurel who was the first Blankman grandchild. The time discrepancy shows. Colette, called Coco so as to keep up  with Lolo, is not as crazy about Cece as Cece is about her.....yet. This one is very partial to her mother and the feeding accoutrements that she alone possesses. I got her to take a bottle once so far. I had her in the front carrier thingy-majingy, and when she was beginning to nod off, I put the bottle in her mouth and she began sucking and actually took most of the bottle. I felt so accomplished! Figured we had made great strides toward mutual admiration.

Then came last weekend. I drove to their house in San Diego to take care of Coco so mom and dad could go to a Christmas production of The Grinch with big sister Laurel. Let's just say we did okay. But there was no taking a bottle this time. And the Cokes, another name for this latest little bundle, is also very particular about how she is to be held and what the person who is holding her is supposed to be doing. Basically, Coco prefers you up and moving...all the time. And even when she falls asleep, she must have some kind of an internal level mechanism. As soon as you try to sit down or lay down, and she is no longer perpendicular to the floor, her eyes pop open and she protests substantially enough to get you up and moving again.

Later in the afternoon the parental returned with Lolo. Coco was very pleased to see her mom and to be reunited with the accoutrements only her mother can provide. Then the parental units left again to go to a party. This time leaving big sister Laurel with Cece, too. Lolo was anxious to play with Cece. It was not to be. Coco was in charge. There are few games that can be played, and no books that can be read while holding, and walking around and bouncing a five month old baby. So, each time Lolo asked if I could play with her, I had to respond that we would have to wait until Coco was asleep. I think Lolo had enough experience with her little sister to know this was not likely going to happen any time soon.

Lo finally spoke her mind.

"Where's Papa," Laurel asked?

"Papa is at home," I responded.

"Why didn't he come to help take care of the baby," Lo inquired further?

"His favorite team has a football game," I explained, "and Papa wanted to watch it."

Laurel now placed her hand on her hip and twisted her mouth in the way one does when one is puzzled or irritated. Then she asked the six million dollar question.

"What's more important? Football or helping to take care of the baby," Laurel asked with serious conviction?

Wow. Not quite four and a half years old and this little woman understands priorities! How was I to answer this serious challenge?

"That's a great question, Lo," I responded. Truth be known, my mouth was a little twisted, too. I had asked Papa the same question.

Then I passed off the responsibility to answer the question to the one who was responsible for the question being asked. "You'll have to ask Papa that," I added.

What's more important? From the mouths of babes. In Papa's defense, when Lo visits he is at her beck and call and is also a pretty crazy grandparent. After she visited the last time he explained that he doesn't always feel like playing what she wants to play. But, he realizes that there will come a day when she will not ask him to play with her anymore. So, he will take advantage of it while she is still asking. Have you ever seen an over sixty man playing Barbies? Trust me. It makes up for several football game absences!

What's more important? Coco finally did go to sleep and hard enough so that I laid her down and she stayed asleep. I then helped Lolo take a bath, and brush her teeth and get jammied up. Lolo and I got to play and read a book before mom and dad returned home. I kissed her goodbye and her daddy brought her outside to wave goodbye to me as I backed out of their driveway to head home.

I had been on duty about nine hours. It was late. I had about an hour drive home. And, I had to preach the next morning! But what is more important? This day called for a crazy grandma. I'm so thankful that I  have the credentials!

 

Choosing Crazy Chaos

The pictures say it all. This is what it means to open your heart (and home) to a grandchild.  I have always been a neatnic and like my spaces clean and free of clutter. In fact, I cannot sit down to read or work if the space around me is chaotic. In every house we have lived in my children knew there was designated space for chaos--their bedrooms and a play room, and designated space for peace and tranqulity--all the rest of the house. Not anymore. Chaos rules.

In 2013 we downsized and moved into a 1300 square foot condo (don't weep for us, it has an ocean view and it is only five minutes down the hill to the water). And between July 2011 and July 2015 four little people moved into our lives. The chaos began instantly.

When my children were babies we had a car seat, a stroller called an umbrella stroller because it collapsed to the size of one, and a diaper bag. That was it. Today? Oh my! These children come with a car seat that doubles as a carry and hold seat and has an awning and a expiration date! Which means the manufacturers make a lot of money on these expensive items because they expire! Who knew?! Then there is the  portable collapsable cradling sleeper. It perfectly cradles the newborn and some of them even swing and play songs. I once lost our first child. I made a nice little bed for him on the floor next to our bed when we were visiting relatives in Austin, Texas. When we woke up in the morning he was gone. Nowhere in sight. After a very brief panic and a quick survey of the floor he was found under the bed, safe, cradled tight between the bed and the floor sleeping soundly.

And, have you seen the new jogging strollers? They are ginormous! In size and expense. They have three full size wheels that must be from Michelin, rolling smooth as silk and taking up the full sidewalk. You can buy two seaters which take up the sidewalk and one lane of the adjacent street.


They come with their own awning, too, and a storage compartment big enough to put two more kids in if you needed to. Then there is the backpack. It is filled with all the possible remedies and aids for one of any hundreds of potential circumstances that parents nowadays read about online that a baby could or might encounter... it never ends!

And as these little people get a little older an entire room of toys travel with them wherever they go! My dear LoLo has ONE play set that has ninety-two pieces. Ninety-two! And she has about a dozen of these sets. Oh my! So much for open clear space. Every square inch of our 1300 square feet are filled the evidence of the arrival of these precious little people. What isn't a toy or game, these innovative little people make into a toy or game. Of course, the bed is a trampoline. Some things never change. The kitchen floor is for putting puzzles together. The bathtubs are now canvases with all sorts of water soluable products to go crazy with. Closets are hiding places for little people and for various objects they decide to conceal from Papa and Cece. Blankets and chairs turn into tents that can be a hospital, a zoo, a castle or anything else they want it to be. And, I love it! What has happened to me?

When these little people enter your heart and home everything else takes a back seat. Who needs clutter free space when you have little people filling your house with endless chatter, squeals, and laughter? Who needs a coffee table decor fit for Houzz when you can have the space decked out for hours and hours of make believe play? Who wants compliments on a neatly and beautifully decorated home when you can have countess hugs and kisses from these little people telling you that they love you? There is no other explanation for this turnabout than absolute crazy love--certifiable craziness. It is Gramasylum and I am a proud and grateful permanent resident.