Tag: humor

The meltdown

If you know toddlers, then you know meltdowns.  I have two grandsons and the oldest is the master at the meltdown.  They are normal, but they can really test your self-control.  They have gotten better over the last year but it happened again recently.

It was 5:30 pm on a Thursday.  The week is winding down and I am tired.  We have nothing to eat and a trip to Sam’s club is a must.  I am scheduled to pick up the four year old.  I know that the stars are not lining up well for this.  Both of us are tired, hungry and well….he’s four!!!

I pick him up and runs to me, screaming “grannnnnndmaaaa”  He hugs my leg and I am filled with joy….  I am so glad to see him.  “We need to go to Sam’s Ok?”   I say as we are getting his backpack.

“Yay, can I look at the toys?”

“We can look but there probably isn’t anything small, you will probably not get anything today, ok?”

Mistake number one.   I should have been more concrete.  “Sam’s will not have anything and we aren’t getting anything”  but that sounds so harsh

His response is “but we can look right?”

I am buckling him into his car seat.  Why is it that those straps are never the same length as when you unbuckled them, and they are always all twisted up.  I swear there is a car seat gremlin that screws with those things.

“we can look but we are probably not getting anything” (probably damn it…WE AREN’T GETTING ANY TOYS!!!)

As I am buckling him in, his little hand reaches up to my cheek and he gently caresses it, then he starts to squeeze my cheek and the grip become more and more firm, I look into his eyes and I see a twinkle of anger in there.

“are you trying to hurt grandma?”

“no, why is your face so squishy?”

“Because I am old.  No meltdowns at the store ok?”

“Ok” he says with a defeated voice.

We get to Sam’s and get the cart, “Can we look at the toys?”

“We are getting the food first then we will walk down that isle before we check out, OK? ”

“OK”

We get our food and head towards the toy isle.  I know there won’t be anything we can take home.  There are huge blow up toys for the pool, large yard items and books….This is gonna get ugly.  We start our walk and I can see the panic come over his face, no small toys, nothing, nothing that grandma is going to buy!

“you can have a book.”

“I don’t want a book”

“ok”

We walk the full length of the aisle…nothing, he is in full panic mode…He isn’t crying yet but it’s coming…I can’t help myself and I start to giggle.  It is what I do.  I know it isn’t going to help the situation but I can’t help it.

“Ok let’s go check out.”  I say

“NOOOOOO grandma, can we look one more time?”

“Ok, one more time but then we are leaving.  Everyone is waiting on us at home.”

Down the isle we go again….Nothing, his little face is so sad, there is nothing to buy, nothing, NOTHINGGGGG!!!

“Ok, it’s time to go” I say.  We head toward the register and here it comes.  He has a death grip on the cart, feet dug in, he is in total melt down mode.

“NOOOOOO Grandma I want a toy, I want to look”

The lady scans my groceries, he is still screaming and jumping up and down, I occasionally lean down and say very softly, “please stop, please be quiet”

“no grandma, please grandma, waaa waaa ”

I tell you what, these moments are hard.  I feel bad for him.  I feel bad for me, but I know this is normal.  People are staring and that’s ok.  It is normal.  He is sad, he is tired and he is hungry.  Grandma should not have done this.

We head toward the door and he is hanging onto the cart feet dug in.  I am literally pulling him along, he hasn’t taken a step.  He is sliding with his head flung back, “noooooo grandma”

I hand the lady my receipt and say “he’s not on there but we could probably make a deal”  We get outside and I stop the cart

“Tell grandma what you want.”

“I want to got Walmart.”

“we are going to go home and eat, take a bath and talk about it, but we probably aren’t going to Walmart today.”

“Ok” he says and just like that it is over

We made it,  It’s over, nobody got hurt, and nobody died.  I feel bad for little guys when this happens.  They have so little control over things,  they have very few real choices.  They are just learning how to control their emotions, add being tired and hungry on top of it and it’s a recipe for disaster.

The next time you see a meltdown, remember they are normal.  The child isn’t bad, mom isn’t a bad parent.  It’s a bad situation that may not have been avoidable.   Give an affirmative head nod, a positive wink, or say “It’s ok, it’s normal”.  Because it is and this too shall pass, until the next trip!!

 

 

 

 

 

30 years of marriage

In October I will have been married for 30 years and the shocking thing is, it is to the same person.  So what does thirty years of marriage look like?

Year one- He is the sexiest thing I have ever seen.  I can’t wait to see him and we have sex all the time.  There is also a lot of touching and giggling…..gross

year 30-  He has aged amazingly well, not the sexiest thing I have ever seen…we’ve been married for 30 years and I’ve seen a lot of hot guys in that time but I still feel like I married up.

Year one- nothing he does annoys me.  He calls me pet names, we have sex all the time and lots of giggling

Year 30- He does a lot of things that annoy me.  Should I make a list.  He hangs Walmart bags on everything, door knobs, cabinets, the back of chairs.  He make this horrible throat clearing snorting  noise, he is obsessed with all of his orifices.

Year five- We still have sex  a lot.  We have to be quiet so the kids don’t hear us.  There are little things that annoy me but nothing that is a deal breaker.  He hangs his pants on the back of chairs and makes this weird noise after he brushes his teeth.

Year 30- Lots of groaning but it is when we get out of bed in the morning or after we have worked in the yard.  No worries about people hearing us having sex…He makes horrible noises and is obsessed with his orifices ( I think I already mentioned that).

Year 30-  We tell each other “I love you” every day.  He tells me every morning before I leave  “you look pretty” and “have a good day”.  We say thank you for every day chores like making dinner, cleaning up the kitchen, or emptying the trash.

Sometimes when I look at him the 30 years flash through my brain.   I see  him in pain, sweeping the floor the day Jaymee died.   I see him dancing at the bar in Enid where we met.   I see his face the day Logan was born.   I think about him driving 30 minutes to change my tire.   I always see the love and adoration he has for me.   I hope when he looks in my eyes he sees the same.

 

 

 

It’s All about me

This is the title of the book that I wrote.   It is a memoir that covers the death of my daughter and the 2 1/2 years that followed.  During that time in my life it was all about me.  Grief can cause some pretty intense, self centered, all about me, way of thinking.  The title is fitting.

I remember needing to return to work and went back two weeks after she died.  I was a home visiting nurse and my job was very intimate.  My co-workers were concerned that it would be too much for me.  I gave them a list of people to contact and set some appointments.  I chose people whose lives were the most chaotic.  This would seem like the worst people to choose, but quite the contrary.  Their lives were so burdensome that they didn’t ask how I was or what was going on in my life.  I was able to get through that hour, focusing on them, not having to share or explain things.  I didn’t want their attention, I just wanted to do my job.  It was a pitiful existence for awhile but it worked.

Fast forward to now.  I see children that live in that burdensome world.  A world where there sole purpose is to survive.  They act out in school or are withdrawn.  Most often their parents live in that world too.  Not connecting with the child, much like they didn’t connect with me all of those years ago.  I try to be the buffer in that 30 minutes I spend with them.  Attempting to speak for the child and advocating in what little way I can.  It is hard not to blame the parents but I know they can’t hear me.   Trauma is rampant in our society and we don’t see it.  We do, but we don’t recognize it.  It could be the mom at Walmart that flips out on her kid, the child that is constantly disruptive or in trouble, the girl at the drive through window that just can’t seem to get your order right.

Am I perfect?  Do I remember these things while interacting with them?  Not always, but I do try to  be patient and to remember that for now It’s not all about me.

 

 

 

poop

Until recently I thought everyone’s family talked about poop.   That poop was just a normal conversation.    A new member of the family informed us that, “no, not everyone talks about poop  and it is just plain weird”.   This caused me to reflect.   Maybe it is because I am a nurse, or a mother, and that is how this strange family habit started.  Then I remember these conversations occurring  when I was a child so that can’t be the reasoning behind it.    Isn’t it necessary tho?    How do we know if our kids are constipated if we don’t talk about it?  “Did Timmy poop today?  Was it a good one?”  Doesn’t everyone comment on how stinky the litter box is?  Oh my god, what if we have to run out of the room during our favorite TV show, causing a long intermission.  Do we not owe our family members an explanation “I’m sorry, it is the damn  iceberg lettuce I had at noon”?  “Do not go in there!”   Hmmm.  We have spent many family get togethers reminiscing about the good ole days and well, you know, that one time when grandpa had to run up 100 steps with his butt cheeks clenched fighting off an attack of diarrhea, or the time uncle Ben pooped in a rest stop, sitting next to a stranger, who had also just finished his second cup of coffee.  Maybe it is a little odd.   The topic does seem to come up quite regularly, pardon the pun.  I will try to me more cognizant of it, maybe not bring it up at the dinner table and definitely not in front of strangers or at work.   I think that’s a pretty good compromise.   What do you think?