Late to the Game, but Catching Up

I think that this is the gig I was born for . . . “Grandpa”.  Two years ago the daughter and son-in-law made the wife and I grandparents with the birth of our first granddaughter . . . about three months ago they blessed us with our second granddaughter.  The two of us are now grandparents and we are loving every minute of it.  Being a grandparent is an excellent gig and one I was born for.

The only problem, at least according to the statistics reported by the AARP Bulletin, that grand source of information for those entering and in the geriatric stage of life, is that the wife and I are entering the game late in the grandparenting stage . . . approximately seven years late!  According to the monthly newspaper from the AARP the average age for a grandparent is 47 years old.  The wife and I were both 54 years old when the first grandchild arrived.  Somehow, unbeknownst to us, we lost seven years in the grandparent department . . . seven years!  What was were our children thinking by making us wait seven years before we had a grandchild!

We have been making up ground ever since.

Luckily for us our granddaughters live close by.  We get to see the two of them on a weekly basis as they live within thirty minutes of us.  According to the statistics reported by the AARP Bulletin 43% of the grandparents in the United States travel more than 200 miles on an average to see their grandchildren.  Luckily for us the grandkids are just down the road . . . plus they are easily attainable on the way home from work in the big city.  The wife and I get to see the girls on a weekly basis . . . and, I must admit, it has been great for us. 

Growing up, due to distance and things like money, I rarely (and, I mean rarely) saw my grandparents.  On my mother’s side it was once or twice every couple of years . . . while on my father’s side it was maybe once or twice over a lifetime . . . at least until we moved into the area where my mother’s parents lived when I was in my junior year of high school.  Then I saw my grandparents practically every day.  Basically, other than those last two years of high school, I didn’t have much of a relationship with my grandparents.  I swore that that would not be the case when grandchildren appeared in my life.  I would make whatever effort it took to be a part of their lives and them a part of my life.  So far, so good.

As I stated earlier, the granddaughters are a pretty regular part of our lives.  Whether we make the effort to go see them, or their parents make the effort to come see us, they are a part of our lives.  I would have to say that my time in their presence is a highlight of my week . . . the one thing really look forward to each week. It is the sort of anticipation in which I catch myself sitting on the front porch the homestead waiting . . waiting to see that car pull up and hearing my two-year old granddaughter cry out, “Grandpa!”

Being a grandparent is great . . . but, it is also expensive.

According to the AARP Bulletin grandparents spend $57 billion on their grandchildren each year.  Fifty-seven billion!  I am not quite sure what the share is that the wife and I contribute each year to that amount . . . got to be at least a hundred thousand . . . but, thank God, we are both working.  This puts us in good company as 62% of all grandparents are still working.  Darn right we are still working, how else are we going to put in our fair share of $57 billion! 

Now, I am not really sure how much we actually spend on the granddaughters . . . mainly because the wife is the one who spends all the money on them and informs me later.  In the spending on grandchildren department I plea ignorance . . . but, I am beginning to find out that we have rarely, if ever, not “gifted” the grandchildren when they are in our presence.  There is always an outfit here, a book there, a toy over there . . . or some other expense that comes with grandparenting.  After the shock, it is usually money well-spent.

On my part though, the granddaughters and I get by fairly cheaply.  Now it might be because I am one of the world’s tightest tight wads or because I have discovered that at the age my granddaughters are at we don’t need a whole bunch of stuff except a vivid imagination and lots of time.  I have plenty of both.  Much of what the two-year old and I do is free.  We enjoy walking around the yard, picking up sticks, throwing rocks, exploring the flower gardens, running in the yard, telling the dogs “no!”, and just being in the presence of one another.  Shoot!  All the two of really need is one another!  We have a lot of fun.

Of course, I think the idea of me being a grandparent scares my daughter and son-in-law.  Scares them to death.  Grandparents get to get away with all that stuff that parents cannot get away with.  Grandparents got the privilege of teaching their grandchildren all those things that their parents don’t want them to learn.  Grandparents get to do all those things that their parents would never let them do at home.  Grandparents get to teach them all those embarrassing things that their parents would rather them not to know.  Grandparents get to be their grandchildren’s best friend who knows things that they are dying to know . . . that their parents would rather them not to know . . . so that they can go out into the world and embarrass their parents when they least likely expect it.  That is the “gift” of being a grandparent . . . and, the curse of any parent.  Unfortunately, despite being seven years behind the average, I have more than made up ground.  I have accomplished in being able to teach my two-year old granddaughter that which has the possibility of embarrassing her parents much to the chagrin of her parents.  Payback is hell!

I enjoy being a grandparent . . . I really do.  I enjoy the laughter that my granddaugthers bring into my life.  Grandchildren seem to laugh at the simplest things.  Laughter is a welcome companion at this stage of my life.  I enjoy the joy of discovery . . . each new thing is a wonder to my granddaughters.  I am seeing the world through “new eyes” and each new discovery is an adventure.  Wonder is a gift of being a grandparent.  I enjoy silly songs and noises . . . I am learning that Grandpa can make all sorts of weird and disgusting sounds . . . can create all sort of new words and sayings . . . that bring great satisfaction and joy to a two-year old.  Unfortunately, it brings great fear to her parents!  I love the enthusiasm that my two-year old granddaughter brings to life.  It stands as a reminder what a gift life really is.

     I enjoy all the parts of being a grandfather . . . except for those rare occasions when I have to change a diaper . . . especially a poopy diaper.  There is no worse of a smell than a baby’s poopy diaper.  I have been encouraging the granddaughters to get a move on in using the potty. 

Yes, I think I was born for this grandparent gig.  It is the one place where I have finally been able to meld together all that worthless information, trivia, and infantile behavior I have been saving for a rainy day.  It is the one place where I have been able to act silly and actually get away with it in public . . . because I am a grandpa!  It is the one place where I have the opportunity to enjoy life at its basics level with laughter, joy, and great discovery.  It is the one place that reminds me that in getting older there is great adventure when looking at the world through the eyes of a small child who looks up to you with admiration and love.  It is a wonderful gig.

I thank my daughter and son-in-law for making it possible for the wife and I to enter into this journey of grandparenting . . . though it was beyond the average.  We are looking forward to that day when the other children begin adding to our joy with children of their own.  I thank my granddaughters for bringing a renewal love for life . . . a sense of adventure . . . and, just plain old happiness into my life.  Being a grandpa has been a joy!  The perfect gig!  I might be late to the game . . . but, I am more than catching up!  Ask my granddaughters.

Why?

Why do we always say “It’s colder than Hell outside”?

I am gearing up for when the daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter get back from their little adventure in Alabama in a couple of weeks.  It has been nearly three months since I have seen the granddaughter and she is rounding the corner to her second birthday in a couple of months . . . and, she is getting more verbal.  She has always been verbal . . . she is a talker, but now her verboseness has purpose and meaning . . . she is wanting to know . . . wanting to learn.  Anyone who has been around an inquisitive toddler knows that means . . . WHY!

Why?  I do not care what the research states, “No” is not the first word kids learn in their vocabulary . . . “why” is the first word that they learn.  Once they learn “why” they never stop asking it.  The granddaughter is beginning to ask a lot of questions . . . she is wanting to know . . . and, I am sure that the primary word out of her mouth will be “why”.  Because it will be, I am gearing up . . . preparing myself for the onslaught of inquisitiveness that only a small child can produce.

It has been a while since I have had to deal with answering a lot of the “why” questions from my own children as they are now all in their mid-twenties and can go look up the answers for themselves.  As they were growing up my typical response was, “Because.”  “Because” worked for a while, but they learned the trick . . . “Because why?”  Which I typically responded with “because I said so” and a menacing glare . . . I think that lasted about a week.  I would venture to say that any of you reading this who raised kids knows what I am talking about.  This is the stage that the granddaughter is entering . . . this is the stage that I am preparing myself for.

Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest but ducks when guns are thrown at him?

Why don’t women put pictures of their missing husbands on beer cans?

Why do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet drink?

I honestly believe that my granddaughter’s heart is in the right place . . . that she really will want to know “why”; but, at the same time, a normal human being can only hear the word “why” about a trillion times before losing it.  At the age that my granddaughter is entering they always ask a trillion and one times.  Besides, it is one of the eternal questions of life . . . why? 

Asking questions is how people learn.  It is how little kids learn.  Hopefully they ask the right people . . . I feel for my granddaughter, her mother, and her father . . . I might not be one of those “right” people.  I am less like Albert Einstein and more like Earl Pickle.  If you do not know who Earl Pickle is you need to start reading the funny pages in your newspaper.  Earl is the grandpa who feeds his grandson a whole bunch of nonsensical answers to his constant questions . . . sometimes there is a little wisdom and common sense weaved into the answers, but for the most part . . . good ol’ nonsense.  My poor granddaughter has an “Earl” for a grandpa on her mother’s side.  My poor daughter and son-in-law will have a lot of cleaning up to do.

For example, I found a talking Squirt stuffed animal from the movie Finding Nemo.  Squirt is a sea turtle that thinks of himself as being a “surfer dude” that includes typical surfer dude language . . . things like, “Whoa, dude!”  You squeeze Squirt and he says, “Whoa, dude!”  This is the sound that my granddaughter thinks all turtles make.  A while back her parents took her to a zoo in Alabama, saw a turtle, and she told the zookeeper that turtles say, “Whoa, dude!”  Guess whose fault that misconception is . . . yep, Earl’s . . . no, mine.  But it is cute and I hope she hangs onto until she gets to school.

Why do drive-up ATMs have instructions in Braille?

Why do banks charge a fee for “non-sufficient funds” when they know you don’t have enough money to begin with?

Why do you believe it when someone tells you that there are a billion stars, but you always check when you see the wet paint sign?

The poor girl doesn’t have a chance.  She has me for a grandpa.  The grandpa who cannot answer a question with a straight answer.  Why does it thunder?  Because God is bowling.  Why does it rain?  Because God is crying.   Why do birds fly?  Because it is faster than walking and they don’t have driver’s licenses.  Why is Grandma so old?  Because she married me.  She what I mean . . . the girl doesn’t have a chance.  But, she will have fun.  She will get to laugh a lot.  And, she will get to think and be creative.  I’ll be that grandpa who is full of you-know-what!

So . . . I am gearing up.  I am practicing my responses and answers to questions about “why” . . . and, trust me, there are lots of questions about why.  Here are a few more:

Why is it that everyone driving faster than you is an idiot, and everyone driving slower is a moron?

Why do people never say “it’s only a game” when their winning?

Why is it a “penny for your thoughts”, but you put your “two cents in”?

The best defense is a good offense.  I am preparing myself with a bevy of “why” questions for my granddaughter.  I figure that if she can rattle off a trillion and one “why” questions . . . I can come up with a trillion and two.  No half-pint is going to get the best of me!  No siree.  I am gearing up . . . I am getting ready.  Bring it on, Granddaughter . . . Earl is ready! 

Actually I am really looking forward to the onslaught . . . I am ready for the questions.  Why, do you ask?  Because I see this as an opportunity to really get closer to my granddaughter . . . to spend time with her seeing the world through her eyes . . . of experiencing “old” things in “new” eyes.  I see it as time of great adventure and exploration of the world I have grown callus of as I have gotten older.  I see it as a time of great laughter with this little inquisitive creature.  And, I see it as a time to build up my supply of silly humor . . . silly humor works well in sermons!

I am ready.

Bring it on, Shorty!

Bring it on because I have one for you:

If a jogger runs at the speed of sound, can he still hear his iPod?

Grandpa Is Getting Old

I’m getting too old for this stuff . . .

This weekend the wife and I are babysitting our 14-month old granddaughter as her mother and father attend a wedding in the big city.  It was with great exuberance that the wife and I volunteered to take on this duty . . . we wanted to watch her.  We wanted to watch her in all of her non-ending youthfulness, non-ending energy, constantly walking, constantly wandering away, constantly getting into stuff . . . never wanting to take a nap . . . never wanting to go to sleep . . . and, constantly wanting to be noticed; yeah, we wanted to watch her . . . and, after one day we are wondering what we were thinking!!  We are getting too old for this stuff and she isn’t even a teenager yet!!

Now, don’t get me wrong . . . my granddaughter is the coolest and best thing that has ever happened.  I miss the punk when I don’t get to see her at least once a week . . . which probably prompted the wife and I into volunteering to watch the kiddo this weekend.  The kids moved to another big city in Montana a couple of hours away a few weeks ago.  I had not seen the kid since they moved . . . I was having granddaughter withdrawal.  So we volunteered . . . and, the adventure began.

The day began bright and early as we all heading off to the mountains to do a little “moosing”.  Moosing, for those of you who do not know what I am referring to, is cruising the back roads looking for moose.  To properly do “moosing” one has to get up very, very early . . . on the road by 6:00AM.  Without a complaint or even a whimper, the granddaughter joined us adults for a early morning of moose hunting.  She was a real trooper even though she was stuck in her car seat for a couple of hours . . . the reward was that we saw seven moose.  We saw three sets of momma moose and their children, and we saw one bull moose.  Unfortunately, at 14-months of age, the granddaughter will never remember any of it!

After a couple of hours of moosing, we headed to breakfast at one of the wife’s favorite eating establishment.  There the granddaughter was a blast.  Grabbing everything and anything . . . babbling away . . . flirting with people at other tables . . . and, demanding to taste everything that was on the table.  Constant energy . . . constant motion . . . and, constant noise.  I loved it!!  Who doesn’t like being with the cutest person in the room?

From there we decided to do a little walking around town . . . do a little shopping . . . after all, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree, and daughter and wife seemed to think there was a need to do a little shopping.  Fourteen month olds really don’t care much for shopping.  Fourteen month olds want to explore . . . search and destroy . . . go on what they think are Indian Jone’s adventure worthy of the silver screen.  The granddaughter was up to the task . . . we walked around countless stores . . . we tested the limits of a lot of store owners . . . tested the limits of Grandpa.  The punk must have walked a couple of miles!  The rest, Grandpa carried her.  Needless to say, even though she is quite petite, Grandpa got tired.

We walked the streets . . . we petted dogs . . . we looked in windows . . . sat on park benches . . . wandered the aisles of every store within a hundred miles . . . danced.  Yeah, I said, dance.  This granddaughter likes to dance . . . she likes to boogey.  Doesn’t matter the music, when the spirit hits her to dance, she dances.  Of course my dancing is not much better than my singing . . . but, being a grandparent cuts a person a little slack . . . people expect grandparents to act like idiots.  I need a granddaughter thirty years ago!! 

Again, I was tired.  She wore me out . . . she wore her parents out.  But, they were lucky as they were heading out and going to a wedding rehearsal.  A tear entered my eye as they pulled away from the house . . . what had we gotten ourselves into!!  A 14-month old and a nearly elderly couple . . . someone was going to lose in the end.

From the time that our granddaughter’s parents left she was a constant blur of activity.  She was a ball of energy . . . constantly moving energy.  Her grandparents, unfortunately, were not . . . we were more like the immovable blobs that wanted to sit on the couch and reminiscence about the good old days when we just sat there and held our granddaughter.  It was low energy, low impact. 

I do want you to know, there were chinks in the granddaughter’s armor.  She did start to get tired . . . which meant she got grumpy . . . but we were under strict orders to not let her sleep until her bedtime at seven o’clock.  That was nearly four hours away when the parents left . . . the wife didn’t make it.  She crashed in her recliner for a “ten-minute” nap that lasted nearly an hour . . . much to my horror!  I did a whole lot of walking around the yard and house with the granddaughter . . . we picked grandma’s flowers . . . walked up and down steps . . . danced in front of the bedroom mirrors . . . ate a lot of Cheerios . . . and, basically wore Grandpa out.  It was then that Grandpa decided that he was getting too old for this stuff.

Yet, we survived.  The granddaughter has now been asleep for over two hours . . . sawing logs.  Grandma has already hit the sack.  Grandpa is drinking beer, writing a blog, and wondering how in the world he is ever going to survive tomorrow when Grandma goes grocery shopping for a few hours, leaving him alone with the granddaughter.  He is not sure, but . . . he will survive.  He always survives to see his granddaughter another day.

At the end of a day with the granddaughter there is exhaustion.  Yeah, this exhaustion manifests itself physically in my body, but it is a “good” sort of exhaustion.  I love my granddaughter.  I love her 14-month old sense of adventure and wonder.  I love her goofiness.  I love her dancing.  I love her babbling.  I love holding her in my arms as she clings to hang on.  I love her “honking” my nose.  I love her sharing her food with the dogs.  I love her constant motion.  I love her laughter . . . and, I even love her tears.  She is a hoot . . . the best hoot I ever get.  She reminds me what it means to live life to its fullest . . . because she does each and every moment she is awake.  Yeah, it is exhausting, but it is a good exhaustion no matter what age one might be . . . it is life lived with joy.

My granddaughter is a blessing.  I thank God each and every day for this blessing.  I am not too old, she is too young . . . but the blessings are numerous . . . too numerous to count.  She makes me smile . . . she makes me laugh . . . she makes me sing . . . she makes me dance, but most of all she makes me feel loved.  No matter how old I get, I will never get enough of that sort of stuff.