I have this saying:
“I’m not going to let your lack of preparedness stress me out.” I developed that for the times when my dear,
wonderful husband let’s his enthusiasm for an event outpace his
preparation. Let me explain.
This weekend we are at Grandkids Palooza, babysitting one
set of grandchildren at their house while their parents are out of the country. Two other sets of grands also came join in
the fun, bringing their parents with them.
We’ve been going nonstop since we arrived. I don’t know since I was never the popular
one in school, but maybe this is what it feels like to those celebrities who
never have a moment without someone wanting something from them. After story time then bedtime – which took
some time because there is a lot of excitement in this house – things finally
settled down to a sense of quiet that made me believe I could go to bed. Then the storm broke.
I attempted to sit quietly in the kitchen reading for a
while, trying to be quickly available if the storm wok one of the
children. But Nelson, the dog who lives
here, started whimpering and scratching the glass every time he saw me, no
matter where in the house I moved to. Grandpa
brought his big lab Duke (because one big dog isn’t enough for this kind of
weekend) who is well-behaved; the other one not so much. By the time I got to bed Grandpa was sawing
z’s, the rain was down to a nice steady flow and I think it took me until the
count of 2 to fall asleep.
Two of the cousins were up at 5:30. A.M. I woke
to the sound of their playing in the kitchen and got up to find all the lights
on, one of the dogs let in and ½ a gallon of milk poured into 2 cereal bowls,
still floating a few stray cheerios. I went back to the bedroom. “Grandpa, you HAVE to get up now – it’s almost time to take
Tyler to his swim meet.” Grandpa can get
ready for the day in 2 minutes so I'd let him sleep as long as I could. We would both need our energy for this day.
Feeling very organized and on top of it, I
reminded Grandpa to get the keys to the car he would use to take Tyler to his swim
meet, handed him his map along with the required paperwork and went upstairs to
get the girls ready for Reagan’s dance class.
My phone was downstairs in the bedroom charging, which was unfortunate
because Grandpa really needed to get
a hold of me. After only a couple of
minutes he drove back and leaned on the front door bell. Which of course works best when you
simultaneously bang on the door loudly.
I ran down to unlock the door and breathlessly asked, “What is it?”
“This is the wrong map.
Tyler says it’s the map for where they practice but not for where the
meet is. You gave me the wrong map.”
Me: It’s the only map
that said “swim” on it. The other ones say “school”, and “dance”.
Grandpa grabbed the map with “dance” on it and studied it, certain that
it must be the map he needed. I grab it
back. “You can’t have my map!” Grandpa: “Great.
You have a map and I don’t.” Me: “Well, you at least have an address and I
don’t.”
We sound like 2nd graders.
I had located my map and confirmed the address as soon as we arrived at
their house. It annoyed me that he had
waited until he was on the road – tires were actually moving on the pavement –
to see if he had either an address of the correct map. He ran out the door, Tyler patiently waiting
in the truck, probably wondering if he would ever get to the meet.
Half an hour later the girls and I went out to the car to
leave for dance. Reagan ran back in to
get something, and fortunately I followed her , or tried to. When the door from the garage into the house
closed behind her it was locked. I turned the handle but the door wouldn’t
budge. I had just seen her go inside so
for a minute it didn’t compute. Now I
was the one loudly banging on the door.
Reagan appeared to let me in and I turned the knob, testing it several
times to make sure we could get back in later.
So glad I discovered that before
we left …..
After swim meet and dance class and trips to the grocery
store we stayed home for the rest of the day.
Snacks and smooches, running and jumping (the kids, not us), playing
school, coloring pictures, building with Legos, and using every inch of the
large playroom upstairs we passed the afternoon, snagging adult visits between
tending and supervising. Amazingly there
were few spats and hardly any tattle-telling – these cousins get along.
Molly was dying to get into the pool. It was in the 50’s and chilly but she doesn’t
care if it’s 95° or 59° she just wants to be in the water. She started in the “hot” pool then went to
the “cold pool”, and swam in one or the other for the next 2 ½ hours. It wasn’t long after she jumped in that the
others put on suits and joined her. They
spent more time in the hot pool, getting out for short float rides in the big
pool and then back in to warm up.
There were only two injuries during our stay, and one of
those was Grandpa. The cut on his hand
required only a bandaid; Molly’s head bonk from a sharp cornered table was much
more dramatic. Her dad calmed her tears
and fears, gave her an ice pack to hold on the quickly-forming green and purple
bruise at the edge of her eye. Before
long she was dancing in the show with the rest of them like nothing had
happened.
Breakfast the next morning was served on the patio, for
those who didn’t mind eating outside in the cold. The kids ate their homemade breakfast tacos
out on the patio and we adults had ours with coffee inside, watching them as we
ate.
Grandpa had dressed in swim trunks and a t-shirt, determined
to get some hot tub time before we had to leave. After breakfast he got in, the two dogs close
beside him to keep him company. He
enjoyed approximately 28 seconds of peaceful hottubbing when the kids came out
and jumped in. Immediately he egged them
on to splash each other, him and the dogs.
I could hear their voices outside amidst the splashing water, the sound
of joyful carefree abandon.
One last review of all the rooms to make sure we don’t leave
anything behind. Molly’s stuffed
“wolfie” is out on the front porch, patiently waiting for his owner to come
retrieve him. I have my children’s
books, complete with the stuffed Mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie,
Spot from the Spot children’s board books, and baby Clifford, the last two
returned after being on loan to Lily.
Just about ready for the drive home.
Where we will promptly collapse and rest for 3 days to get our energy
back.
Grandkid Palooza.
Molly summed it up last night when, ice pack clamped to the left side of
her head, she announced, “I love y’all guys!”
