~ A DAY IN THE LIFE ~

"We should all have one person who knows how to bless us despite the evidence; Grandmother was that person to me."

~Phyllis Theroux

So, when my daughter and her husband were simultaneously deployed, my beautiful 2-year old grandson Marcus came to stay with his Gramma. I'm sure he didn't understand why, or realize how long he'd be staying, but he welcomed me and entered MY home and my life with the excitement and exuberance that only a child can exude. We quickly fell into our daily routine and in doing so, grew into a comfort zone of a grandmother who loves her grandson unwaveringly and a grandson who loves his Gramma unconditionally.

To give you a little glimpse into a “normal” day for me and my little man, I’ll share with you a letter he sent to his mommy and daddy. (He even sent it via email…smart little guy, huh?)

“Hi, Mommy and Daddy,
I just wanted to tell you that I love you and miss you and not to worry because Gramma is taking good care of me. I thought I’d write and tell you about our days together.
When I wake up in the morning, Gramma always says “Good morning, my little Love Bug” and picks me up and gives me lots of hugs and kisses. It's cute now, but I hope she doesn’t call me that in public when I get older…that could prove to be very embarrassing when I’m around the ladies. (I'm not really sure where "public" is, but Gramma makes me call her "Aunt Judy" whenever we're there. What's up with that?)
Then she puts on the TV and makes me a good breakfast. One day Gramma said she wanted to see my waffles “all gone” but I wanted to test her, so when she wasn’t looking, I threw it in the toilet. But I got busted because I forgot to flush. Gramma tried not to laugh, but as usual, she couldn’t help it.
Then she makes me chocolate milk and gives me my vitamin. She always says if I don’t eat my food, she’s going to turn the TV off…and sometimes she really does it (even if Teutron is on!!!). Charles told me she was a pushover – sometimes I’m not sure he knows what he’s talking about!
When I’m finished eating, we go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Gramma smells my mouth to make sure it smells fresh and clean. Then Gramma washes my face – I always try to run away when I see the washcloth in her hands, but she always catches me. She runs pretty fast for a Gramma.
Then it’s time to get dressed and go to school. Gramma is teaching me to put on my clothes all by myself. That makes me feel pretty darn proud! Still having a little trouble with those button things, but I’m really getting the hang of it! Now if only I could change my own diaper…I bet Gramma would really like that!
Gramma packs me a really good lunch – stuff like sandwiches, chips, string cheese, fruit, applesauce…you get the idea. On Tuesdays and Fridays we have Splash Day and we get wet - I like Splash Days. Gramma bought me special swim shoes to wear so I don’t slip and fall.
I try to say “Gramma” as many times as I can so she doesn’t forget that I’m around (not that she ever would or could). I can’t count that high, but I hear Gramma tell people that sometimes I call her over 500 times before we even leave for school. Gramma must really like my school because every day when she drops me off she says “Thank God for daycare!” Wonder why she says that??
We have little rituals like counting the steps when we go down them and holding hands when we walk to the car. If she doesn’t take my hand, I stop dead in my tracks and say “hand”. (Except that time when she had that funny looking thing on her hand and arm…I didn't like that thing…it looked like something out of a scary movie. I just couldn't hold that hand! But I did hold the other hand so Gramma wouldn't feel bad.) When I get out of the car, I stand on the edge of the door and count to 3, then Gramma says “blast off” and I jump.
Speaking of Gramma’s car, one day I had a crayon in my hand and she didn’t know it…I wrote all over her door and window with my yellow crayon. Gramma wasn’t very happy – she made me help clean it off. What’s a “Lexus” and why can't I write on it?
Most times when she says “don’t touch”…I bat my eyes at her and smile and touch anyway, just to see what she’ll do. She doesn’t do anything but say “one of these days Marcus, to the moon” as she shakes her fist at me. Works every time. Charles taught me that trick…she says that to him too.
At school, all the kids fight over who is going to play with me and sit by me to eat. Maybe it’s just because I’m one of the youngest there, but I’m pretty darn popular. One of the teachers told Gramma this morning that “no one should be allowed to be that cute”. I guess the shorties will really dig me when I get older…just like my daddy…huh?
When Gramma comes to pick me up I always run into her arms – I am always happy to see her and I know it makes her feel really good. Then I grab my backpack, yell “bye…see you tomorrow” to all my admirers and head for the door. Sometimes some of the girls – and even some of the other boys – try to kiss me when I’m leaving. But the teacher makes them stop. Yeech…thank you, teacher!
When we get home, Gramma gives me a yummy snack and plays with me outside before making me a nutritional and delicious dinner. I just want candy for dinner, but for some reason Gramma says “no…there’s a new sheriff in town, buddy!” What does that mean? I try to tell her that Mommy and Daddy give me candy all the time, but she doesn’t know what I’m saying. That’s probably a good thing.
Then its bath time…Gramma runs me a bath and loads me up with toys. I play for a while, and then tell Gramma I’m done. If she doesn’t come right away, I yell at the top of my lungs until she does. How can she not hear me? Then she washes my dirty little body, cleans my ears, cuts my nails and scoops me out of the tub.
After she puts all my toys back in the bin, she dries me off and rubs lotion all over me, before putting on my diaper (because I’m being stubborn about the whole pee-pee potty thing) and my pajamas. If it’s early enough, I get to watch TV before bed.
I usually try to give Gramma a hard time when she tells me its bedtime. But we say our prayers together and bless both of you and then I feel better and go to sleep. I wake up sometimes at night and call for Gramma. Then she runs down the hall – no matter what time it is or how tired she is - and lies on the bed with me. Sometimes I go right back to sleep…sometimes I do this 3 times and then Gramma lets me get in bed with her, where I go right to sleep. I love my Gramma.
Sometimes Gramma gets a babysitter – my precious Sophie. I love Sophie. Gramma has her or Mel (Sophie’s mommy) come over and watch me when she goes on a date. I don’t know what a “date” is, but she said she had lots more of them before I came to stay with her. I hope a date isn’t something Gramma really likes. I hardly ever see her “dates”…she says most dates aren’t “Marcus-worthy”, whatever that means. Speaking of men…why doesn't Papa live here anymore?
Sometimes I go over to another relative’s house for the weekend. I love them, but I’d rather stay with Gramma. When I see them pull up to get me on a Friday night, I start to cry and run the other way. But Gramma runs really fast to catch me and put me in the car. Why is she smiling so much when she does this? I’m crying and she’s grinning from ear to ear. I’m beginning to think that maybe she needs a break from me, but that just couldn’t be true…not my Gramma! When she comes to get me on Sunday, I get so happy and the world is right again. Back home with my Gramma.
Well…gotta run. I haven’t called Gramma’s name in over 10 minutes – she’ll think something is wrong with me. And I just put Gramma’s hairbrush in the fireplace…wonder how long it will take her to find it. Bet she doesn’t even know it’s gone yet.
Maybe I’ll try the waffle in the toilet thing tomorrow morning again, just to keep things interesting. I’ll write again soon. I love you and miss you so much. But I know you have to be away right now…thanks for leaving me with my Gramma – good choice!
Your son,
Marcus Xavier Gonzalez
(Boy Genius)

P.S. Uh, oh…I think she just noticed that her hairbrush was gone from the drawer…her hair is wet and she’s yelling “Marcus Xavier Gonzalez…have you been in my drawers again?”
Come to think of it…wonder why she moved that red rocket with the blinking lights…that thing she calls a vibrator...that was a fun toy, but I can’t find it anymore. Oh well, gotta go bat my baby brown eyes at her so she won’t be mad at me.

"The feeling of grandparents for their grandchildren can be expressed this way: “Our children are dear to us; but when we have grandchildren, they seem to be more dear than our children were.” You might say that the grandmother falls all over herself to try to show her appreciation for her grandchild. It goes right back to those wishes that were made for them when they were little girls: the wish that they would live to become grandmothers someday. So when the time comes and they reach grandmotherhood, they do extra little duties to show their appreciation."

~Henry Old Coyote

But Marcus…its 3 a.m.!!!

It’s a Wednesday and its 3:12 a.m. I am awakened by the sound of someone trying to get in my back door…I’m instantly VERY awake. What should I do…call 911? Suddenly a small voice pierces the quiet of the (very) early morning…"GRAMMA!!" I should have known…he’s on the move. Of course he is…it’s 3 a.m. and he’s trying to get out the back door because he thinks I’m out there.
At this point it’s easier to just let him get in my bed, so I hoist him up and prepare for a couple more hours of semi-sleep with arms and feet in my face. If only I were so lucky. He tosses…he turns…he sneezes…he does everything but sleep.
Why, oh why, can’t this be a man…between the ages of oh, let’s say 35 and 50…in my bed…tossing and turning…unable to sleep because he’s burning with desire for me? He turns…he reaches for me…the passion mounts…then he sneezes in my face. Back to reality…the whole “passion” thing is not happening any time soon in this bed.
I’m drifting back off to sleep…finally. Then someone is tapping me on my face. Where am I? What is going on? “Gramma…I pee-pee potty!” You have got to be kidding me!!! All night I’ve been trying to get you to pee-pee potty (with no success), now at 3:33 in the morning, you want to go pee-pee potty…yippee!! So I go with him to the bathroom and let him handle his business while I go get another Pull-Up. Boy these things work great…you’re really learning to go pee-pee potty…at 3:30 in the morning!
Why is there a whole roll of toilet paper all over the floor? How much do you need – aren’t you old enough to put the roll back on the right way? I sigh and begin to roll the paper back onto the cardboard cylinder, wondering why I’m even awake.
But Marcus…its 4 a.m.!!!

At 4:21 a.m., I hear those fateful words (again)…”Gramma, I want Teutron, I want juice!” Isn’t this supposed to be happening about 3 hours from now? And why does he keep laughing? What the heck is so freakin’ funny at 4:33 in the morning?
It can’t be that ridiculous Jimmy Neutron episode where he looks like a hamster. Gives me the creeps; Jimmy looks kind of creepy any way, but as a hamster, he’s just downright scary. Why is this child laughing at the lamp next to my bed? I don’t feel like laughing…I fail to see the humor of it all.
But Marcus…its 5 a.m…oh, who cares?

Must be 5:00. The alarm clock that I turned off yesterday morning and the morning before at the same time is now blaring static from that place somewhere between radio stations. I know I turned that darn alarm off when this happened yesterday morning. How does this stuff keep happening?
“Gramma…I want Power Rangers, go go go!!!” Of course you do…let me just put that on for you. It’s another day in paradise with my favorite man.
At 5:08 I resign myself to the fact that my day is beginning, ready or not, so I turn on the coffee pot. As it chugs, I walk through my house and look around in the sheer wonder of it all.
Our father raised my siblings (Karen, Richard, Robert) and me with the “white glove” philosophy. After we cleaned the house each week, he did the “white glove” test and God help us if he found some dust!
Now there are Tater Tots under my dining room table…how did those get there? I used to frown upon women who fed their children those things; now they're a permanent staple in my refrigerator. I smell the unmistakable scent of a dirty diaper and flashback 27 years to when my daughter was a baby. I smile at the memory of it – VERY briefly. Guess I should take out the trash at some point, huh?
As I walk through the kitchen, I begin to wonder where fruit flies come from and how they just suddenly appear around your fruits and vegetables. Why do I continue to buy avocados…particularly the ones with the big red "Ripe" sticker on them? All the grand intentions of the big, beautiful, fabulous salad I was going to make "tonight" have somehow morphed into squishy red things that used to be firm, luscious tomatoes and black, wrinkled blobs that were avocados in a previous life. Hmmm…what's that purplish thing? I'm not even sure what that was when it was "alive".
In the living room, I notice chocolate milk and juice stains on the carpet that I just shampooed last weekend. Stupid sippee cups…the label says “no spill”…what do you call this, then? There’s spillage going on somehow! Is that a donut hole in my plant?
Did I miss these spots or are they new stains? New…guaranteed…Judith, this just won’t do. Yes, daddy…I know. I look towards heaven and say “mommy, help me…you’re up there…can’t you do something about this?” I know she would, if she could. Somebody help me.
Where’s my hairbrush?

"Just about the time a woman thinks her work is done, she becomes a grandmother."

~Edward H. Dreschnack

As I continue to walk through my home, I'm left wondering where the heck my hairbrush is. I know I picked it up off the living room floor yesterday and put it back in the drawer in my bathroom. Or was that the day before? Now it’s nowhere to be seen. I would ask him if he knew anything about its whereabouts, but no…I think not. Talk about opening "Pandora’s box"!
Did I leave the refrigerator door open and why is there a tiny footprint INSIDE the refrigerator? Why don’t I have accent pillows anymore? They were so pretty one time…long ago.
Why is that business card for the car detail guy lying on the counter with the thumb tack still in it? I’m not having my car cleaned until little “Mr. Crayola” goes back home. Oh, that’s right, Marcus brought it to me last night at 10:00 when I was in bed, drifting off to sleep. “Don’t touch! Why aren’t you asleep?” Why, oh why, is there yellow crayon on my 50” plasma TV? I guess to match the yellow crayon on my car window!
As I walk through my bedroom, I notice my copy of “You’re Not You” laying dusty, untouched on my nightstand. When did I start reading that book? Oh yeah…it was in March. What’s this…August? Guess I’ll have to start it over; I’ve forgotten what it’s about. Besides, Marcus pulled out the bookmark, so I don’t even know what page I was on.
Come to think of it, when IS the last time I read a book to myself instead of to someone who can't read…or watched a real movie that didn’t involve cartoon characters? Isn't there something wrong with the fact that I know what every Jimmy Neutron episode is about the minute it comes on?
Why is there a shot glass in the sink? Oh…I’m sure he found the Patron (tequila) in the freezer last night while I was asleep…and how nice, he cut himself some lime with a sharp knife. Oh no…that’s right…that was me. Maybe if I give Marcus some Patron before bed, he’ll sleep straight through the night? Just kidding…no, really…I am just kidding! I'm not THAT desperate…yet.
As I enter his bedroom that used to be my “guest” room…I see about an inch of dust on the top of the dresser. I thought I cleaned the house last weekend…must have missed that…was it last weekend? Must have missed a lot of things…seems there are a lot of places begging to be cleaned. Oh well…there’s always tomorrow…or next month.
Time to start our day…again!

"A hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove, but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child."

~Forest Witcraft

Well, time to start our morning ritual. As I load him, his huge backpack and his lunch box into my car, I take note of all the crayons, cars, candy and toys that I need to clean out. Oh well…there’s always tomorrow…or next month.
I’m rushing him into the daycare facility, when I notice that his face is dirty again. Didn’t I just wash your face? What is that stuff all over it? Can’t let them see it, so I lick my thumb and hurriedly wipe his face with my spit – yes, I said my spit – every mother/grandmother has done that at one time or another. If you say you haven’t, I think you’re in denial.
“Happy Hour” takes on a whole new meaning.
"Children will not remember you for the material things you provided but for the feeling that you cherished them.”

~ Richard L. Evans

After a full day at work, I return to the daycare center to retrieve my little bundle of joy. Funny…I had imagined 6:00 p.m. being a time when I would be enjoying Happy Hour at a local haunt with my girlfriends, laughing and flirting with eligible bachelors. Now I find myself rushing to his daycare to make sure I don’t miss the 6:00 pick up deadline.
Once home, we play together outside for a while; where does he get all this energy? Then it’s time for dinner. Yes, I’m making him Tator Tots… again. I give him his plate and he hungrily reaches for one. “Gramma hot!” he squeals. “No it’s not…just eat it!" I say while reaching over to pick one up and see for myself. “Oh, it is hot…sorry!”
Its official…Marcus is going to survive the summer in spite of me, not because of me.
What’s that on the rug?

"Young boys should never be sent to bed, they always wake up another day older."

~ From the movie "Finding Neverland"

As I put on Marcus' diaper and get him ready for bed, I stop and wonder how there could be poop under my manicured fingernails. And today I got some AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) stuff in the mail. These two things can’t be happening simultaneously!! It’s one or the other…isn’t it? Either you’re a young mother with poop under your fingernails or you’re an old grandmother with no worries other than whether or not to join the AARP!
He’s finally in bed. Ahhh…now for a few moments of quiet relaxation before I turn in too. Yes, I know it’s only 8:30, but what’s a tired Gramma to do? I sit down on the couch and don’t even turn on the television, content to just savor the peaceful quiet of the night.
"Some days you feel like the dog, others you feel like the hydrant."

~Author: Unknown

Hmmmm…what’s that on the rug…candy? I bend down and pick it up to examine it more closely…I don’t remember giving him chocolate candy tonight. I bring it up to my nose to try to determine what kind of candy it is…OMG…this isn’t candy…it’s hard little boo-boo balls and I’m holding them in my hand!!! Arrrggghhhh!!! Ewww…why aren’t they in his diaper where they belong until I’m ready to release them? How did they escape and end up here on the floor? I rush to throw them in the toilet, suddenly exhausted.
Okay…that was really gross! Guess I’ll look through the mail quickly before I go to bed. Wonder what’s in that big box that was waiting for me on the front porch…let’s just see…I’m sure it’s something for Marcus from his mommy or daddy. Probably some more designer clothes…after all, a 2-year old can’t have enough Sean John!
I am horrified at what I find inside the box; it’s filled with 100 – yes, I said 100 – colored plastic balls. It’s from my daughter. Has she lost her mind? 100 balls that I’m going to have to pick up every night?? I have a great idea; I laugh wickedly to myself as I plan to close the box back up, address it to her house and send it there when she gets back from Africa…that’ll teach her! He never even has to see these.
I’m tired…I’m going to bed…that box of balls was the proverbial “straw” that broke my back! I’m so tired in fact, that I squirt my contact lens solution on my toothbrush and start to brush my teeth with it. Yum…that tastes good! Luckily I realized it before I cleaned my contact lenses with toothpaste.
Oh well…just another day in the life of a grandmother.
“Our grandchildren accept us for ourselves, without rebuke or effort to change us, as no one in our entire lives has ever done, not our parents, siblings, spouses, friends - and hardly ever our own grown children.”

~Ruth Goode

(To order a copy of “Reporting for Doodie”, please visit www.ReportingForDoodie.com.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.01.2009

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