As a mom, you have no choice as to what you experience and what you don’t. You get the good, the bad, and the ugly. As a grandma, there are better choices.
Last week the Worm was sick, then a couple of days later the Bug, and now the Mouse. I chose to miss the fevers, colds, and sleepless nights.
When the Mouse does a number higher than ”1″ in his pants, I choose to pass him off. Been there, done that, got the stench engraved in my memory. One summer day I stood in line with my young crew, including the diaper-clad baby Cheezy, at Thrifty’s Drug Store for a triple scoop, then 15¢. Suddenly I felt something warm (probably not ice cream) fill the crevices between my toes in my sandled shoes. I must have made quite a face, because the ice cream helper offered to scoop me another cone and clean up the mess from the one I had just lost. “Oh, no,” I insisted. “I’ll clean it up.”
More recently, while at the Kern River, Couponman came up with a fitness discipline for the Bug when he chose to be a less-than-stellar eight-year-old — a hundred jumping jacks (rest assured, not the rigid Royal Canadian Air Force type, more like a little hop with flapping arms). The GAP thought the idea was great, and it seemed to work. “It gives him time to calm down,” she claimed today during a phone call. “Until yesterday.” When he woke up, he had whined about the muscles in the backs of his legs.
“How many jumping jacks did he do yesterday?” I asked.
“Eight hundred,” the GAP confessed.
“Eight hundred,” I gasped. “That’s a lot.”
“Yeah, he had a rough day,” she said, then added, “but he didn’t have to do them all at once.”
“So what happened today?” I laughed.
“I told him he had to clean his room this morning, and he threw a fit. So I said, ‘A hundred jumping jacks.’ ‘My body’s made out of lead,’ he bellyached. ‘My legs are going to fall off.’ Then he started making choking noises.”
We were both laughing. The Bug tends to dramatize, not unlike his mother. I remember her collapsing going up the stairs, claiming, “I can’t do it,” as she melted. I don’t even remember what “it” was, I just remember the melting.
Grandmas love to skip the discipline, too, especially if it brings to pass ‘the one day you’ll get yours’ threat.
But give me the fun stuff, the fattening stuff, the stuff that makes me proud, and I’m there.
FYI: The Bug looks as healthy as ever, maybe a tiny bit more svelte.
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Just make sure Coupon Man doesn’t start using this idea on you! You’ve lost enough weight this year.
I had several experiences similar to yours with Cheezy. Those breast-fed babies! They have such soft BMs. But my babies just filled up their infant carriers or their blankies. I never had one actually drip on my toes!