Innocents with children

It's obvious that I did a lot of things wrong with my children. For instance, on the advice of their pediatricians, one son slept on his stomach and one on his side. They slept in cribs with bumpers and blankets.

I used cloth diapers with my first-born. You haven't lived until you've rinsed out a poopy diaper in the toilet. We used rubber pants on top to keep clothing dry. Disposable diapers were pretty new then, and were definitely out of our price range. We saved them for travel and church.

There was no hand sanitizer in our kids' lives. They got dirty, then we put them in the bathtub. Or, depending on the season and the degree of grubbiness, a backyard blow-up pool. We had a step-stool in front of the bathroom sink. They knew how to climb up, turn on the water, and wash their own hands before they were three years old.

Baby food was limited to those little jars of pureed goop. I couldn't even stand to look at it. Why would I think they would want to eat it? I mashed bananas, squished green beans and peas, cooked rice and macaroni, and minced chicken and hot dogs. They ate regular oatmeal, cream of wheat, and grits. I even (gasp) made them omelets with cheese, that I cut up so they could eat with their fingers. They ate peanut butter as soon as it wasn't a choking hazard.

We didn't have a Diaper Genie, a bottle warmer, or a faucet cover for the bathtub. We didn't have a baby monitor. They didn't exist, but our house wasn't that big. I could hear the boys cry from down the hall. One of my children cried incessantly for the first four months of his life. Why would I want to amplify that sound?

When we went on extended car trips over the river and through the woods, we didn't have the option of putting a DVD in the player. I packed each boy a backpack. It was stocked with snacks, a few new small toys, and books with tapes. They each had a cassette player with a headset, and knew how to operate it.

Infant car seats could be in the front seat of the car, where I could reach over to soothe a fussy baby. We could decide when it was time to turn them so they faced the front. We could also decide when it was time to graduate out of the car seat. We had a small booster seat that was meant to be used at the dinner table. We put it in the car so they could see out the window, and strapped the boys in with the seat belt. I remember one trip with #1 son. His job was to sit in the front seat and "read" the map. He was about three. We turned off our street and stopped at a stop sign. He looked up from the map and said, "Are we lost?"

Both of our children survived to adulthood, but I know we are lucky. I know people who have lost children to accidents, drownings, and illnesses.

I'm old enough to remember when things were even less safe for children. I remember car seats that hooked over the back of the bench seat in the front of the car. They had small plastic steering wheels with horns on them. If the driver had stopped suddenly, an infant would have been a projectile through the windshield. My mother once told me that, until her children could sit up, we rode in a small bassinet on the front seat of the car. There were no seat belts in cars then. Maybe that's the evolution of the mom-move -- reaching an arm across the passenger seat in a sudden stop. This is a picture of me and my dad. I think I was about 2.

Bicycle helmets had not been invented. We roller-skated through the neighborhood without the benefit of elbow and knee pads. We walked to school (and home for lunch) with friends each day. The only time a parent went along was on the first day of school. We trick-or-treated with packs of children, going all over our huge neighborhood, filling a pillow case with full-sized candy bars. Nobody thought of taking the candy to the hospital to have it x-rayed for the presence of razor blades. We played kickball, tag, and hide-and-seek in the yard and street until the streetlights came on. That was the signal to go home.

I don't think my parents' generation loved their children any less than the current one does. I can understand how parents today are convinced they should purchase so many safety devices, gadgets, and conveniences.

I often think about how young and stupid I was when my firstborn entered my life. I didn't know how an infant can consume your life, and I certainly had no idea that you could love someone that much.

Walk this way

Our family is owned by a Basset Hound named Rosie. She is not the most well-behaved dog, but she is a sweet girl. She appointed herself Natalie's guard dog from the very beginning. Rosie would sit beside the bouncer seat to protect her baby from any evil that might come her way.

She has learned that the best place to be is under the high chair, since Natalie takes great pleasure in sharing whatever she is eating. It makes post-meal cleanup really easy. Rosie also goes with us when it is time for a nap, lying down beside the crib until Natalie dozes off. She lets Natalie flop on top of her. Almost anything goes, as long as those big hound ears are left alone.

We are co-owned by a cat named Toonce. He was given a real name, but my WH decided that he should be named after Toonces, the car-driving cat from the early days of Saturday Night Live. The name stuck.

Toonce was not much more than a kitten when he was dropped off at the veterinary clinic where I worked. I suspect he was a barn kitten, and he goes in and out whenever he wants during the day. At night, because my WH says, "Nothing good happens after dark," the cat door is closed. Before he leaves for work, WH also tells Toonce, "You be very careful out there today."

Almost every morning, weather permitting, Natalie and I take a walk through our neighborhood. If you are owned by a dog, you know you can't take a walk and leave the dog behind. We put the leash on Rosie and set off up the hill. The first time we did this, it was a huge FAIL. The dog wanted to go one way, the stroller wanted to go another way, and the baby didn't want to go anywhere. After an exhilarating five minutes, we gave up and went home.

We have it down to a science now. Natalie sits in the stroller and holds the leash. Rosie trots beside us, pausing occasionally to do her thing. The best part is that Toonce goes, too. He wears a collar with a bell, mostly to give the chipmunks and birds fair warning. As we go up the hill, I hear a jingle behind us and know he has come along.

Nearly every morning, someone will see us and say, "Did you know there is a cat following you?" After I explain that he walks with us daily, the person will say something like, "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen." I have to say I agree.

Cloudy with a chance of rain

Natalie didn't feel good yesterday. Her usually-sunny disposition had a black cloud hanging over it. It sort of reminded me of that old song by Marvin Fisher and Jack Segal...

"When Sunny gets blue,
Her eyes get gray and cloudy,
Then the rain begins to fall.
Pitter patter, pitter patter..."

She started the day without an appetite and was ready for her first nap at 9:00 a.m. She felt a little warm when she woke up two hours later, so I gave her some ibuprofen. That perked her up a little, and I took her outside to play in the sprinkler, thinking it might make her feel better. I was wrong. She was ready for another nap in the afternoon, and she woke up even warmer than before. That's when I called her mama and suggested she might want to contact the pediatrician. They couldn't see her until this morning, so Natalie and Mama had a sleepless night last night. I'm waiting for a report about their doctor visit.

When Natalie's daddy was in kindergarten,

he developed an earache at -- of course -- bedtime. I had some pain drops that I administered through the night. He settled down to sleep and I started to relax enough to get some sleep myself. About that time, the pain meds wore off, and we started the process all over again. That went on all night. When I got him in to see the doctor in the morning, she looked in his ear and said, "Oh, Andrew! Ow!" Thanks, Doc, for making me feel guilty.

I suspect that Natalie and her mama had a similar night last night. That's pretty much the story of being a parent. It's mostly sunny, but you know the next storm is just a bedtime away.

An analog woman in a digital world

A few years ago, I used Blogspot to set up a blog for our church youth group's mission trip to Belize. It was simple to do. I clicked a few things, loaded a few pictures from a previous trip, and we were up and running.

This venture presented a few more challenges. Maybe I got click-happy, but by the end of the day, I was frustrated and had NO blog. My good friend Nancy saved the day, via Facetime, by helping me figure out how to delete the two - yes, two - nonfunctional blogs I had set up. I swear I did the same things again, and got this one set up quickly.

I'm not stupid. I have a degree in Biology from a well-respected university, but things have changed a lot since then. We used IBM Selectrics to type papers, for crying out loud. I have the usual assortment of technical gadgets. I own a desktop computer, an iPad, an iPod, a cellphone with Bluetooth, a GPS, and several household items that require advanced degrees or a small child to operate them.

I'm a regular Facebook visitor, am proficient at email, and do a fair job at texting. My friend, Kat, used to give me a hard time about "ABCing" on my phone, so the next upgrade is to a texting phone. I have not ventured into Twitter, and don't really want to. Not only do I not need to know what everybody is doing every second of the day, I don't think others want to hear about me, either.

Last summer, at age 18 months, Abby showed me how to play Angry Birds on an iPhone.

It was a humbling experience. She is now able to find and play games and videos on an iPad. So Grammie got an iPad for Christmas. My wonderful husband (hereafter referred to as WH) often tells me it's the best present he ever gave me. He may be right, although I'm more than a little obsessed with Words with Friends.

Now Natalie is learning how to use the iPad. She knows how to touch her tiny finger to the screen to move puzzle pieces around, make the kitten meow, or turn pages in a book. I've always said that I learn best by teaching, and Natalie and I will learn technology together... until SHE starts teaching ME. That may be pretty soon.

Grammie by any other name

Abby is my first-born grandchild. She moved to the Lowcountry when she was six months old, so I don't see nearly as much of her as I'd like. She is two and a half years old.

Her Mom Mom and Daddy both have jobs, but Daddy has done most of the care so far since Mom works at night. It's an interesting dynamic when you share parenting stories with your oldest son.

I had a chance to spend a few days with them last week, and it amazes me that she is not shy when we get together. She is -- and I may be just a little biased -- adorable, smart, and loaded with personality. But I digress.

Before Abby was born, there was a lot of discussion surrounding what I wanted to be called by my grandchildren. Her maternal grandmother had already decided on Mimi. My answer was always that it was up to Abby. My daughters-in-law made lots of suggestions. At one point, "Roxy" was in the running. Ultimately, though, I became Grammie. In the meantime, I've had some ideas I wish I'd had then. I am named after my maternal grandmother, Mary, and my father's stepmother, Gladys. Everyone called her Addie. That probably would have been fun, although it might have been confusing for Abby! My family has always called me Mary Glad, which is often shortened to M.G. That would have been a good one as well. My mother's grandmother was called Bamma by all of her grandchildren. I sort of like that, too.

While I was visiting with Abby last weekend, we made a trip to Target. Mom Mom and Abby went one direction with the cart, while I headed for the bicycle horns. (It is, after all, a grandmother's job to torture her adult children whenever possible.) In a few minutes, I heard Abby's little voice from down the aisle. "Gammie, where are you?" The truth is that I was right. It doesn't matter what she calls me, as long as she calls me!

It wasn't exactly what I had planned...

It's been quite a year! 365 days ago, I was on my way back from a family beach vacation, headed toward full-time Grammie-hood. I didn't quite know what I was in for!

I'd spent the last nine years in an empty nest with a very full schedule. Jobs, volunteer work, husband, family, friends, and travel all beckoned. Suddenly, I found myself at home all day with a four-month-old infant. Life as I knew it screeched to a halt. My world narrowed to four walls and a very demanding little girl.

My part-time work as a Christian Educator was accomplished from home phone and computer in fifteen minute increments, while I took a crash refresher course in what it was like to have an infant as a supervisor. And she was GOOD at it.

Slowly, over the last twelve months, we have developed a rhythm. So much has changed. Natalie and I now share supervisory roles. My paying job became easier as she got old enough for a mother's morning out program. I could actually work from my office, and found out just how much can be accomplished when a baby isn't around. Natalie started taking longer, more regular naps, and has graduated to one LONG nap a day. I can get a lot done in three hours! We have gone from bottles to baby food to real food. We've moved from lying swaddled in an infant seat to sitting to crawling to walking and running. Natalie may take a long nap, but she is far from still when she's awake. I don't sit still much either.

I resigned from my job at the church a few months ago. I miss that work, but know that I am doing exactly what I should be doing right now. It doesn't pay well -- ok, it doesn't pay at all -- but when those little arms reach for me, and those big blue eyes light up when she sees me... Do I really need to explain further?

So I spend my days reading board books, pushing a stroller through the neighborhood, watching Mickey Mouse, playing with blocks, and supervising as Natalie plays outside. My friends have jobs, work out, go out for lunch together, meet for book clubs, and have grown-up conversations. I challenge you to try doing any of that with a sixteen-month-old in tow.

So Natalie and I begin the next year together... and I hear her waking up to get started!