We all know how quickly Saturday and Sunday disappear - in a single blink! Conversely, Monday thru Friday can last an eternity. I have my own personal galloping hours - the ones between "oh good the blog is done for another week" and "why do I wait until Monday night to write the next one." Generally I at least have something simmering in the back of my brain for Monday night to chew on and spit out. Alas, this week I find myself following the Yellow Pages slogan - for those of you who are old enough to remember the Yellow Pages that came in book form - I'm letting my fingers do the walking. Of course, I'm not perusing those colorful pages, but rather, wandering across my keyboard.
Meandering #1: I love seeing the shock on people's faces when I tell them I have eight grandbabies. Invariably you can see the mental math cogs turning. Thanks to good genetics and a great hairstylist, I don't necessarily look old enough enjoy the love of so many a couple of generations descended. It also helps that I got married at 19 and had my babies at 20, 21 and 24. I am now reaping the benefits of having been young and foolish - and lived to tell.
Meandering #2: Having eight grandbabies is, in fact, keeping me young! They teach me how to use my iPhone, including how to play Crossy Roads. They take me on roller coasters, or perhaps we just egg each other onto them. They get me to sit on the floor and help them turn somersaults, or lay on my back and hoist them up on my legs to fly. They want me to teach them how to whistle (Does anyone have advice on that? It's a very hard concept to explain.) They also keep me foolish, thinking I can actually join them in their fort or fit through a tunnel or climb on the playground equipment. I'm a fool in love and happily so!
Meandering #3: As seen on Facebook, "Children need at least one person in their life who thinks the sun rises and sets on them, someone who delights in their existence and loves them unconditionally." -(credit Pam Leo). How true is that! And I am that person, eight times over!
So to sum up the meanderings: I can, with barely any provocation, be a fool. I'm actually quite good at it. And people tell me all the time that I can't possibly be a Granma, but I am. The secret is that I am a child, too, and I have not one but eight persons who delight in me almost as much as I delight in them, assuming that is even possible. And I know they love me unconditionally, because even when I haven't secured enough advanced critters in Crossy Roads, they still let me play.
I love being a "young" old. I love being Granma!