Grandma's Little Helper

Most of you who are reading my musings have probably realized that I am technologically challenged. My lack of technical savvy extends to every and any thing that is more complex than an off/on switch. I don't even know how to change a battery. I have, however, managed to survive the onslaught of technology relatively unscathed. "Relatively" is the key word because my ignorance has caused a few embarrassing moments. One of which was brought to mind yesterday, when a like-minded friend sent me a video through e-mail.



I have never tried to answer my vibrator, but I did have to replace the batteries in my little stimulator – I obviously couldn't take the toy with me, hand it to the clerk and ask for a battery change like I do with my watch, so I removed the battery and took it to the store. The clerk was having difficulty finding the correct replacement and called over a second clerk. I was poised to run, knowing what was coming next (no pun intended!) - what was the battery used for? “Ma'am, is this battery out of a hearing aid?” “Oh yes," I said, "A hearing aid." I took the replacement and fled. Brought new meaning to the words “coming” and “going”.

F.Y.I. Hearing aid batteries work in vibrators.

What's Messy Versus What Matters

I started to write a post in response to my daughter's recent lamentations on her messy house because, as most mothers of grown children know, it is simply chickens coming home to roost. I was going to remind her of the nanny she had when she was five years old who quit after one week because Catherine refused to clean a mess she had made in her room because “that was what she was being paid to do.” I was going to remind her of her steadfast refusal to participate in weekly cleaning chores because she was going to marry a millionaire and would have servants to perform the mundane household tasks. I was going to say “I told you so!” and then I read her March 25th post on abortion vs adoption and wept. Somehow, it didn't seem very important that she and I had locked horns for years over cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms. What is important, is that my daughter has stayed true to herself – that she is passionate about life, love, family and knowledge. That ain't so bad.

I will leave adoption for another day.

On a lighter note here's Bad Grandma Tip #3:

You know you're a bad grandma when you give your grandchild a drink of gingerale with your false teeth in the bottom of the glass.

Try it!

Bad Grandma Blogging

I will start by saying thank you for your kind comments in response to my perception of the NY Times article and thank you to my daughter for setting up a venue so that I can vent, opine and occasionally be a thorn in her side. I do not intend my musings to become an adjunct to Catherine's because, on many levels, we view the world with very different lenses. While I am flattered that she has directed you here (to the blog that she set up for me - I have absolutely no technical expertise whatsoever), I would almost rather she invited the mothers of her friends and readers (your mothers!) here.

When I read her blog discussing the challenges of being a mother and the complexities of balancing everything else in life that makes us who we are and who we want to be, I am transported back in time, and then, I am right back to now because NOTHING HAS CHANGED! Except that there is the added challenge of being a grandmother.

Oh, for sure, my challenges are a little different:

- I have added trying to defy the laws of gravity to my list.

- My tan line is now a deep V

- Mammograms no longer hurt

- It is difficult to see myself as a beautiful goddess through bifocals.

I will add to the list in another post.

I will share some of MY mother stories.

And... I will give grandmas hints on teaching their grandchildren habits that will drive their children crazy. (So maybe, dear readers of Catherine's blog, you shouldn't read mine!)

Bad Grandma?

My daughter and I were in the New York Times last week.

I actually was upset because the article made me out to be selfish, self-centered and frivolous and it appears most of the times readers came to that conclusion. After reading the article, if I didn't know me, I wouldn't like me very much either. In spite of my tentativeness around infants, I have always, and still do, believe that the birth of a child is a miracle and the greatest gift that God can give two people and will ever be in awe of this miracle. I relived my miracles with the birth of my grandchildren. I delight in seeing previous generations reflected in their hair, their eyes, their stubbornness, their little quirks - I see promise, I feel hope and I wish for my grandchildren to feel with every fibre of their being the love and connectedness that defines a family.

I guess I sometimes forget, in the anticipation of my grandchildren getting to the age of inquisitiveness and gullibility, that my children expect me to be a mother first.

My children, at the ages of 39 and 36, are sometimes more demanding than they were growing up - my grandchildren never make me feel guilty - my children are masters. The article was not about being a bad grandma - it was about being a bad mother and not in the tongue and cheek way of "her bad mother blog".

I am a damn good "bad" gramma and I was a damn good mother and I won't apologize for an active, well-rounded life that extends beyond my children. Somebody has to get a grip and it's not me!