Have I mentioned the grandkids?

Dear lurkers if you're still lurking: 

I have five grandkids now. Two came within the last two months. Currently aged 4y, 3y, 2y, and 2months, 1month. 

Five. Holy shit. 

The 4yo lives with her mom in my basement. She brings me great joy. They all do, but she's at that age where she's curious, forming her own opinions, making judgments, and saying off the wall stuff that fills me with delight.  

The other day she face-timed me at work.  

Me: Hello
Her: "Unfortunately [while slowly shaking her head], I have something to tell you."
Me: "Unfortunately? Really. What do you need to tell me?"
Her while exhaling dramatically: "well [dramatic pause] ARE you ever coming home!" 

People, it was shortly past noon.  She'd been home from school all of 10 minutes. 

In the past two weeks she has hit me with big words like unfortunately, specifically, and she is currently using the word literally with emphasis in nearly every description she gives of any thing. 

"He literally did not even care" when telling me her uncle did something she deemed offensive, like maybe saying "hi" or asking if she needed help; or this gem: 

"Mimi, I literally need another juice because it's a healthy food" when I said she didn't need another until after she ate her dinner. 

"Mimi, specifically it is peanut butter." when I asked if she wanted a PB&J for snack.

She's 4 going on 14. Just like her mother was. 

Last night she was eating her dino nuggets and I was eating sushi. She said "is that sushi?" and I said yes. I asked if she wanted to try it. She said "No. Sushi was gross last year." 

me: blank stare

 

I'm trying to keep perspective but damn

I was leaving the Huntsman Cancer Hospital after a long day with my little brother who had a couple stomach biopsies.  A story for another day. 

A lady in the elevator said to her friend “I just want to go home.” I'd seen her friend in the waiting room. There were a handful of us out there for several hours. Shifting in our seats. Quiet. Avoiding eye contact. Waiting.

When we got outside I saw the lady.  She was smoking a cigarette.  Not a vape. A smoke. The old fashioned kind.

I know every one approaches the hard stuff differently. I get that.  But if you’re getting cancer treatment, why are you smoking? And if treatment is prolonging the inevitable, why are you doing it? And why are you still smoking?

I'm trying to keep perspective but damn.   

I’m just over here putting on a good front while I silently bargain with the fates. Hoping he isn't terminal and smiling to comfort him. Wishing I could take the pain and sick and fear away from this 43 year old manboy who I love as if he came from my womb.  

And trying really hard not to judge the smoker. 

Cutting the cords

I deleted The Facebook and Instagram. I haven't been on the book of face for ages, but I posted to Insta occasionally and that would cross post to the book of face. 

There is just so much shit on the sites. And trolls. I wade through tens and twenty ads and "suggestions" before seeing a post from someone I actually followed.  Then trying to wade through the misinformation, the AI generated shit, the ads - so many ads.  So I slowly stopped going there. 

I still watch Twitter because I like a good train wreck occasionally, and I keep an eye on Bluesky.  Mostly I'm just tired of feeling meh about everything I see. 

The thing is, I don't miss either site. I don't think I'm missing anything by being gone.  Other than posts from my own kids.  Otherwise, meh. 

Memory Lane

He stuck his tongue out at her and she said “ewww, put tongue away.”  Then she said mom “Unk stick tongue out.” And she said TeeTee tell Unk be nice me.” 

It was funny.  And cute.

And it triggered a memory.

When I was 9 or 10, maybe even younger. We were at my aunt’s house.  All of us kids were playing outside. There were five or six of us. The oldest, we’ll call her Patsy.  She stuck her tongue out at an old man in the yard next door.

The old man promptly went to the front door and told my aunt that the “kids” were sticking their tongue out at him. 

We all got called inside. We all got yelled at.  We all got asked who did it.  Everyone denied it. Then Patsy said it was me.

My mom promptly went to the kitchen to get her weapon of choice. A metal spatula. The one with the holes in it.

I was crying and pleading promising my mom that it wasn’t me.  Agreeing I did know better.  But Patsy was older. “Why would she lie.”

My mom came back with the spatula and told me to pull my pants down because “you know better than that.”

I was crying. And pleading. And everyone was looking at me. My aunt. My uncle. Patsy. Patsy’s mom. Patsy’s teenage brother. I told my mom I didn’t want to pull my pants down in front of them.

She told me to go in the living room. So I did.

I started to pull down my pants and Patsy’s mom came and sat on the couch. Then her son. Then my aunt.

I was humiliated. Standing there in my underwear while my mom spanked me.

I don’t know how many times she hit me. I stopped counting years before this.

This memory has stuck around since that weekend. Living rent free in my head.  Hopefully now it can crawl back into whatever hole it came out of and never appear again.

Wordless Wednesday