Good Night Moon

Just read an article on parenting – discipline, I guess, and did a little digging only to find that said author has no children of his own. Go figure. How can you profess yourself an expert where your experience is limited if not actually non-existent? How can you discipline where there is no love? How can you set rules and boundaries when you are not the one they run to for a hug? How can you set consequences when you are not the one who tucks them in? How can you even feel you know a child when you haven’t rocked them when they’re sick? Amazing that parents would even take direction from such a person. Only have to look at history, and recent history at that, to see how that plays out in the big picture.

Found my way to said article because I have been struggling with being firm on bedtimes. I will, however, forgive myself. Grand-parenting is not parenting. And in seven days the boys’ dad will be home. I look forward to a house filled with laughter, loud chaos and love. The boys are already excited. How many times have I heard … “when Dad gets home …”

I’m excited too. For ‘when Dad gets home’. There will be hugs to lift you off your toes and Gram will head back to her little house where bedtime is not something to worry about, but something to embrace as I tuck myself in and read myself to sleep!


Twice loved and then some!

Here we go again …

One of my ‘goals’ before I retired was to sort and reassemble the mountain of Lego owned by my son and his children. I’ve always enjoyed ‘playing’ with Lego, not only because it’s fun but because handling those little bricks brings me peace of mind. I get lost in the process and the quiet.

so … I think maybe I started last night with The Black Knight’s Castle, set 6086, released in 1992, 588 parts, 12 minifigs. I believe it cost approx $115 at the time and today sells for anywhere from $250 to $6/700. Depends on condition. This particular set belonged to my son. It’s not just a matter of piecing the set together … I wish! Thing is that the boys well and truly played with their Lego and the pieces from a couple hundred sets are very much all mixed together! And I may underestimate when I say a couple hundred. That’s how much they liked their Lego! Sometimes it takes me an hour to find one little tiny piece. I’m aiming for 100 sets and 100 characters (not set people) before the end of the year. I will track my progress here.

Lego. Twice loved!

A healing heart

Today was a good day. Not a great day, but a good day, and that is ‘exceedingly good’.

I have been ill. Unusual for me and therefore difficult. Physically I was on a precipice. I knew it but kept pushing. Because that is what I do. That is who I am. But being fragile physically opens the door to mental distress and stupidly, I succumbed and bought into those who grow fat on the bile of their own fury. It took me down and carried me along. I’ve been so ugly inside.

I believe it was the anniversary of the loss of someone quite dear that pulled me through and pulled me out. I am healing. The ugly is leaving my heart and for that I am grateful.

Twice loved.

One for Nan, one for Nina

Little Bear came out of the shop this morning with two soaps in hand. ”Gram, can I have two soaps for Nan and Nina?”

Some think he is a rough tough little character. He chose carefully. He didn’t want anything that smelled too strong that might hurt Nan’s nose.

In truth, he is the kindest, most soft-hearted little man. He makes my day. Every day.

Two soaps: One for Nan. One for Nina.

Twice loved!

just another perfect day

Monday was a perfect day.

I’m sure I have many but on Monday I was aware, very aware, of just how perfect it was.

I had all the expected birthday calls, and some not expected. Special! I woke up to sunshine, t-shirt weather and chirpy birds making themselves at home in the birdhouse out front. I made soap. Puggy came to visit and stayed for treats. Not unusual, he always stays for treats. But he’s cute, makes me laugh, and is oh so cuddly. #1 son sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers. My big boy biked down the hill to wish Gram a happy birthday and the two littler guys raced across the playground yelling Happy Birthday and squeezed my heart with great big hugs. I spent the evening with friends and family and served egg sandwiches with the crust cut off. Fancy! With a side order of cheesecake and cookies from The Cozy Tearoom. Steff did the dishes. I went to bed tired but happy. The old bones know just how old they are, but the heart sings as loudly as it ever did.

I love you more …

June is coming. The beginning of summer, the end of the school year and for my middle boy, graduation from elementary school and on to high school. He is eager and ready. I am not.

My grandsons, my boys, (and I have been blessed with three) are all good little guys – though with the oldest being a teen and the youngest not too far off I rather doubt they’d appreciate being called ’little guys’. The older they get, the further they move away. From hugs and kisses and cuddles, from bedtime stories, from let’s pretend and playtime, from sharing hopes and dreams and observations on life and living.

But I’m okay with that. That’s how it’s supposed to be and I’m here. Whenever they need me, I’ll still be here.

But oh my, Sammy. To cuddle down beside you, to feel your chubby little hand patting my cheek. To watch you twirl your hair into knots even as you sleep. To hear you plea for ”one more story”. I didn’t appreciate it nearly enough. I remember one night when you were seven or eight, you cuddled into me and as you fell asleep you whispered, ” Grammy, I love you more than Mommy, but don’t tell her.” I chuckle when I think of that. I knew you didn’t really. But you were always the one who let us know how big your heart was. It still is. You were the little guy who proclaimed every day as ’the best day ever!’ I hope you don’t lose that. Because you have made so many of mine ’the best days ever!’

…early morning thoughts on what looks to be a glorious day.

Happy Mother’s Day to me …

I wrote this post a couple months ago. Just now putting it up here. Seemed the right time.

Mother’s Day is four months down the road. I may or may not get a card – probably not. I may or may not get a shout out on social media – again, probably not.

Today, however, he dropped in, shovelled out my car, took out my garbage and went to pick up a few groceries for me. I didn’t ask. Hardly a day goes by I don’t hear from him – calls initiated by him as often as me. He NEVER hangs up without saying ‘I love you’. Too many times to count I am invited for breakfast, coffee, supper. Too many times to count he gives me little gifts – and big – of things he sees and thinks I might like and he’s always bang on!

Like all, we’ve butted heads, some big stuff, some small, but we’ve managed to work our way through it all. I’m not quite sure I deserve him, but I’m so glad to have him in my life. I’m proud of who he is. I like the man he’s become. And in addition to being a good son, he’s a good dad who puts his boys first always.

If you haven’t called your mom today, pick up the phone. I can guarantee it will mean a whole lot more today than on ’mother’s day’!


They think I show up for the food. Completely understandable. I am not known for my skills in the kitchen and #1 son is a better than average cook, but it’s actually the kitchen table that draws me.

I grew up at the kitchen table. It’s part of my history, part of who I am. Food, friends, work, play – it all happened at the kitchen table. My family was shaped at the kitchen table.

The boys all come together for supper. The phones are put to one side and they sit – not just to eat – but to laugh, to fight, to share stories about their day, to make observations on life.

I feel them move away from me as they grow older. Not unexpected – it’s the natural order of things I believe – but still, I miss the little guys who cuddled close and shared pretty much everything with their Grammy. The kitchen table is where I go to hold onto them just a little bit longer, to still be part of their lives. That’s why I show up.

And on the rare occasion there are leftovers, I get a package to take home for tomorrow’s lunch. Twice loved!

… if you were to be as silly as me and ponder the value of your kitchen table, would they be good thoughts?

Close the door for now … you can always open it again later

During Christmas, Little Bear spent a couple nights with me. When he came to my room and crawled in beside me, I didn’t question why. I am always happy for his company, always wonder if this will be the last time he needs me … so I cherish his presence. Sometimes we chat. That night it was late. We settled down quickly. He asked me to close the door.

I can’t sleep with the door closed.

Well, I can’t sleep with it open. If it’s closed, nothing can get in.

So I closed the door. Funny though, I like to sleep with the door open so I can see what’s coming.

Open door … closed door. Wonder what that says about us. How about you? Do you sleep with your door open? Or do you sleep with your door closed?

Random thoughts.

Mouse in the House

It’s almost impossible for me to sit and do nothing. I would be a poor candidate for yoga or meditation. That said, I probably need it more than most. How sweet it must be to have a quiet mind. Such is not my pleasure I fear; to still the rats in the attic, the hands have to keep busy.

To keep those hands well satisfied while I took a break from soaping, I’ve been doing a little crafting. Found this cute mouse pattern on Pinterest and so it began. Not that I am a fan of rodents; a mouse or a hamster would not be a welcome guest. I declared all out war on the last furry little creature who came to visit. A trip to the local hardware for sticky pads and rat traps ensured victory for the home team and the beast lies rotting somewhere in the field out back. Good riddance! The Pinterest characters, however, are cute and fun to have around.

One thing led to another – as it usually does with me – and I decided the mice needed a home. Found an old drawer, had Mr. J partition the building, and construction began. Yesterday I papered the upstairs bedroom and built a bed. Today I sewed curtains and bedding. Sent a couple pics to Jackie, my #1 consult. ”Cute. why are you making them?” No reason. ”What will you do with them?” Nothing. No plans. I just enjoy the doing.

My mother was a big reader. Every night at bedtime she sat at the head of the stairs between the two bedrooms – boys on the right – girls on the left – and she either sang to us or read to us. One more story, Mom. One more song. Sadly, I wasn’t gifted with her beautiful voice, but her love of books and a good story we all inherited. To nurture our interest, she bought quite a few ‘book sets’ – big books with lots of stories. I’ve seen them often in recent years at yard sales. No one wants them anymore. But we sure did. We read them all – several times over I suspect. Fairy tales, fables, bible stories, mythology, classics … so many great stories. In addition to these, she’d also purchased a big old set of encyclopedias, Encyclopedia Britannica, I believe. They were used not only as intended, but for so much more. Big thick brown books made great Barbie beds, perfect dollhouse walls, highways and runways. Creative play at its best. Making a mouse house from an old drawer, paper, cardboard, glue and scraps of fabric is not such a stretch. Twice loved. We shall see how it progresses before I lose interest.