Going Home

My week in Champaign is coming to a close. In just a few short hours I'll be on a plane heading west, and these days with my Illinois family will be just a memory.

We've had a great time: we've played, laughed, talked, reminisced, and have made lots of new memories. I never know just how long it will be till we're all together again, so leaving is always hard, even as I look forward to being back home with my dear ones in Oregon.

Jason and Lisa have made me feel at home - as they always do - and although I know they'll be glad to reclaim their sofa and their privacy, I know that they will miss our time together. I am so blessed.

My grandsons are all strong, intelligent, healthy - and gorgeous, I might add! - and I will miss their silliness and their hugs and kisses. The two older boys are back in school next week, so their days will soon be too full for missing me, but I know that all three boys have good memories of our time together.

Andrew (11-1/2), David (7-1/2), and Matthew (4) are boys that any grandparent would be proud to claim. I'm so thankful that I can call them mine.

And so, I am homeward bound. Leaving ones I love to return to ones I love. I'll see you on the West Coast!

Giving thanks is a way of life

Top to Bottom:

Andrew, born 1998
David, born 2001
Matthew, born 2005
Addison, born 2005

Our longstanding tradition at Thanksgiving is to join hands before we bless our food and ask each person - young and old - to say one thing they're thankful for. There are no restrictions - sometimes it's a new video game, or a day off from work, or a job, family, friends - whatever each one is thankful for.

I always have a hard time choosing.

Being thankful - Part I

As you know if you follow this blog - or if you know me - I am the mother of three boys and Gran to four more boys. My family is heavy on the "y" chromosome, and I like it! Although I think, deep down, every woman wants a girl (it's a doll thing - at least that's MY take on it), I was never disappointed when my obstetrician said "It's a boy!" I have many fond memories of being surrounded by tall, handsome young men and feeling like a queen. Besides, I also have vivid memories of what I was like as a young girl and as a teenager, and I was always quite certain I didn't have the temperament to raise a girl.

However, in 1988, when I was fundraising for hospice, I was put in touch with an 11-year-old girl whose mom was dying. Virginia was very concerned about what was going to happen to her daughter, and was actively seeking a family to adopt her. I didn't think about adoption, but I knew I could help by taking Tammey to visit her mom at the hospice inpatient unit and perhaps introducing her to my kids and giving her loving support during a difficult time.

Tammey and I spent many hours on the road going to visit her mom, and her joy in life along with the tenderness and adult-like behavior she exhibited around Virginia and the hospice staff endeared her to me. She could morph from mature, sensitive, caring young woman into a carefree young girl swinging in the park and scarfing down food from McDonald's in the space of 20 minutes. I thought she was pretty remarkable.

The Saturday I brought her home to meet my sons and my then-husband is one I will always remember. Before I took her back to the residence where she lived, each of my boys had come to me quietly and individually, and asked if we could adopt her. I was so proud of them (they were 18, 17, and 8 years old at the time), and so hesitant to make a commitment. My marriage was shaky even then, and I was afraid to think about embracing adoption - especially of a young girl whose life had been filled with difficulties that I, in my middle-class world, couldn't even begin to imagine. But there was no question that she had captured our hearts.

She began to spend her weekends with us, taking part in our family activities, going to church with us and meeting other young people who also embraced her and welcomed her into their activities. It was on a Sunday after church that I got the phone call that Virginia had died, and it fell to me to tell Tammey the awful news. It was a heart-rending day that lives vividly in my memory. She was a part of us by then, and I began to speak to my husband about the possibility of adoption.

Only a few short weeks later, Tammey's father - who had been absent from her life for many years - was located and came to Miami to claim his child. We were heartbroken, but she would be among people who had known her mom, who had known her as a baby, who had photographs and memories of her family. We cried more tears than I thought possible, had a party for her, and sent her with love and prayers and promises to stay in touch, to her family in Kentucky.

We were to see her only once more. She was miserably unhappy, her father died, leaving her with an aunt she didn't like (the feeling was apparently mutual), and she made many threats to run away to be with us. And so we were forbidden all contact.

Over the years, through changes in our family - divorce, marriage, moves across country, and the births of children - I would periodically try to find her. Every year on her birthday, my heart broke a little over the loss of this, the only daughter I had ever thought to have.

In 2004, just days before the wedding of my youngest son, I had a phone call from my son in the Midwest. Tammey had found him online and had contacted him! Almost 16 years after losing her, she was back in our lives and we were all ecstatic. She flew out to Oregon for the wedding and the reunion was as if the years had melted away. She was married and beautiful - and taller than I!

In the years since, she has had a baby - my fifth grandson - and we have kept our relationship alive. There is not the closeness of her childhood, of course, but there is a mature friendship and love that thrills my heart. We have visited her and her family, and it was Tammey who helped with my two oldest grandsons when their little brother was born. I am able to tell her that I know her mother would be proud of the woman she has become, and my sons and I remain the people who share the memories of that long-ago, most difficult time.

And so, in this season of giving thanks, I am thankful for Tammey, my almost-daughter, her husband (who never thought he'd have a mother-in-law!), and sweet Adin, who calls me "Gran."

You must have been a beautiful baby!

A few years ago - 2006, to be exact - I was visiting my middle son and his wife and three kids in the Midwest, when their hard drive bit the big one. Unfortunately, most of the pictures they had taken of the kids went down in flames with it, and there was great sadness in the land.

The other evening, I pulled out a few old cds and, lo and behold! there were some "old" photos of the kids. "Old" is a relative term here, since the oldest child, Andrew, will be 11 in January! But there they were - pictures of my Midwest grandsons! And, man, are they ever cute!

I'm in the process of putting together all the photos I can find of these three charmers to send back to Jason & Lisa, but couldn't resist sharing this one of the three brothers as well as each of them individually. These guys are really something special - and I'd think that even if I wasn't their besotted Gran!

Andrew, the oldest, is the one who introduced me to the joys of grandparenting. (And, incidentally, to my first opportunity to tell one of my children that he'd finally know what I'd been talking about all those years!)

The first time I saw Andrew, he was only two weeks old, and my youngest son and I had traveled to Illinois for his baptism. When they met me at the airport and I looked at that sweet face for the first time, I cried. What a joy he was then, and is now. And how proud I am to be his Gran.

Next in line, almost four years later, was my David. If ever a child looked like his parent, this one does! Sometimes when I'm around him, I literally can't take my eyes off him! I am transported back to his dad's childhood and have to remind myself that he is his own person. It doesn't help that David has his dad's sense of humor and silliness!

Then, in 2005, we were blessed with the arrival of Matthew, my little Irish boy! My d-i-l's mom says at last she has a grandson who looks like her! And she does; the Spanish genes are quite evident in Andrew and David, but Matthew definitely favors his mom's side of the family - and particularly his grandma.

He is a cutie and, as the youngest, has learned early how to make his wants and needs known! He also learned, while still using the baby carrier, how to swing his arm to make the carrier rock - an important skill when mom and dad are rounding up your big brothers!

So, I'll have the cd ready soon to ship off to the Midwest, but in the meantime I thought mom and dad - along with the rest of my readers - might like a little preview.

I do love being "Gran"!

Camp Gran

Tomorrow morning, for the first time in five days, I will not be awakened at 5:30 am by the soft touch of a toddler climbing into bed with me for a cuddle and another hour's sleep. Although I'll definitely welcome the uninterrupted sleep (especially since it's now 1:30 am!), I will definitely miss that warm, cuddly boy curled up next to me with his feet planted squarely in my back.

Okay, I won't miss the feet, but I will miss the boy!

Addison's mom and dad returned late tonight from a 5-day vacation in Mexico, and Addison had a whole week of "Camp Gran" (his mom's name for our long visit). We had a lovely time, as we always do with the grandkids. It reinforced my long-held belief that women in their 50s and 60s who decide to have babies really need to be talked out of it, and my admiration for grandparents who take on the full-time responsibility for grandchildren.

Addison is an exceptionally well-behaved toddler, so we had virtually no behavioral issues. It's just that toddlers hit the floor running when they wake up in the morning (or after a nap) and I need three cups of coffee before I can even discuss the morning newspaper with Jim. Of course, the morning newspaper has been the afternoon newspaper this week, but I still managed to stay on top of the current financial crisis, just with less intensity and a few hours later than everyone else. But you know what? Everything happened just as it was going to happen anyway, and I can now put together puzzles with the best of them. Oh, and I've learned the time and channel for "Clifford, the Big Red Dog." And I had lots of hugs and kisses, laughs and cuddles, splashes in the pool, swinging at the park, and a full time view of the world through the eyes of someone for whom everything is new!

He helped Grandpa Jim get the trailer hooked up and started packing for deer hunting next week; he and I played with his "letters and numbers" in the tub; we took Winnie-the-Pooh to the park and put him on the slide and on the swings;

and tonight, after I took him back to his house to await his mommy and daddy's return, he decorated a bush in the front yard with dandelion blooms to celebrate!

Sure, I missed the first Presidential debate, but I can read about it in the paper, or catch in on YouTube. These moments are far too precious to miss.

I'm sorry Camp Gran is over. It went by far too fast - much more quickly than I would have imagined. And as I return to my normal routine tomorrow morning, I know I'll be longing for some of the sweet moments of this past week.

Just a walk in the park

I'm a lucky woman. Sometimes I forget and start to take it for granted - not that I'm the only one who's ever done that! And sometimes a day is just so perfect that I wonder why I'm not just constantly aware of how lucky I am!

I have these wonderful grandsons - four of 'em. The three oldest - Andrew, David and Matthew - live in the Midwest, so I don't see them very often. This year it has been my joy to visit them twice, and I treasure the memories we made. Being a Gran is the most enjoyable thing I've ever done. Don't get me wrong - I also loved being a mom and treasure my three sons. But there's just something about grandmothering...

My youngest grandson, Addison, lives about 12 miles from me - a much more reasonable distance for visits! And I've had the unending joy of being his "Granny Nanny" since he was two months old (he'll be 3 in December). Not that every minute of every day has been pure bliss, you understand. After all, he's still an independent little person and he can be oppositional with the best of them!

Today - as I do every Monday and Tuesday - I picked Addison up from daycare. Sometimes we go to the local mall and have smoothies and visit the stores. Sometimes we go to the pool where he spends nearly an hour on the water slide, which he loves. Today we went to the park, and had a little more than an hour to play on the slides - no swings today. And I promised him I would put the photos of him swinging from the crossbar on my blog.

So, Addison, here you are for the world to see! Thank you for bringing so much joy to my afternoon. Now if I could just see my other three boys on a more regular basis!