Grandparenting. All in a day’s {most joyous} work…
An invitation to a tea by Gavin’s 2nd grade class. We “adopt” his friend, Keenan, whose grandparents are out of town and they serve us tea and lemonade and assorted muffins. The boys are so energetic it makes my head spin. But right in the middle of a school day Monday, my grandson gives me a hug and a kiss and he’s is so glad we are there, I can tell. And Keenen likes us, too.
I pull into the driveway at their house to drop off their cousin and two little Kelley girls run to meet me. “Nonna!! ,” squeals Gemma, and she jumps up to hug me through the window with abanoned glee at my arrival. Guini is slightly more reserved but makes her way to me, “Oh, it is my lovely Nonna,” she says, touching my face, and she kisses my cheek and hugs me through the car window.
Know what is sweeter than kissing a grandbebe goodnight? Waking their warm little faces with a quiet kiss in the mornings. Hunter spent the night and was my little sweety-pie-let’s-have-hot-buttered-toast-for-breakfast guy. I miss having a little person in the house. How did those years go so quickly?
Averi’s momma says Averi has my feet. I ask her, “Do you have Nonna”s feet, Miss Averi?” Yes, she tells me AND we both have bejeweled flip flops. We lie in the grass looking at the clouds and prop our feet up on a retaining wall and take a picture of our cute shoes to remember the moment. Averi thinks mine are pretty and she tries them on. We chat about all sorts of nothing before she insists I push way high in the swing.
A Summer’s evening at the Neighborhood School Ball Park.
Baseball is summer’s game. We didn’t have a TV most of my growing up years, but the radio was tuned in to St. Louis Cardinal’s games as the sun went down on summer nights. The cracking sound of the bat hitting the ball and the crowds going wild, along with the rev-the-crowd organ music drifted through the open windows mingling with the sounds of playmates and I chasing fireflies and whirling hoola-hoops around our waists. The screen door slammed, as in and out we’d go and beer commercials would ring out between innings.
Tools of the trade.
We don’t do it enough, but now and again, Rocky will get a group of us together to run up the street and play softball at the elementary school. And each time we say, “We have to do this again soon,” because even my grown children, now, have become nostalgic as they remember the years they played ball all day every day with the neightborhood kids.
Uncle Rocky pitching to Gav-at-bat. The cheering crowds. DP up to bat.
When I feel the morning grass I let down my guard
Because love comes from the dirt in my own backyard
Everytime I think I’ve finished being young
I catch myself having fun
My husband, Dave, up to bat.
Recently, on one of those lovely evenings that make you wish summer could last forever, Rock got us all together, the fam and some good friends. There is just nothing like some bats, a good, broken-in leather glove and bases to run around. Good times!
Pepler. Guini and Nonna (me). Gavin hits it!
But the moment passes as the sun moves on
So I turn myself back to you…
And it’s depressing that I can’t forget the tune the organist played
La – da da da da da da, la – da da da da da da…
Dave at bat. The boys taking a breather.
Everytime I think I’ve finished being young
I catch myself having fun
But the moment passes as the sun moves on
So I turn myself back to you
Is our season over? No four leaf clover?
The boys of summer: just coming down “Front Street,” as DP likes to say. Shirt by Stormie
Hunter and Gavin will climb anything. Tristan swinging the pipe…as a lefty!
I feel it’s getting colder…
But can you still remember?
April to November
You and I were members
Of the best team in baseball
So we play our games…
“I do not believe that…birth makes people sisters and brothers. It makes them siblings. Gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood are conditions people have to work at. It’s a serious matter. You compromise, you give, you take, you stand firm, and you’re relentless…And it is an investment. Sisterhood means if you happen to be in Burma and I happen to be in San Diego and I’m married to someone who is very jealous and you’re married to somebody who is very possessive, if you call me in the middle of the night, I have to come.”
S I S T E R S ~ A song I adore! Dedicated to Tamara Dawn Moslander Ayento!
BTW – I am definitely the Rosemary Clooney (blue eyes/Bing Crosby) of this scenario, and Tami is Vera Ellen (brown eyes/Danny Kaye). ;p
The Preacher’s Wife
My little sister (both little at barely 5 feet AND younger by 6 years), Tami Ayento, is a preacher’s wife. They recently took a pastorate in the heart of Chicago, so the neighborhood reminds you of the movie by the same name starring Whitney Houston and Denzel Washington (The Preacher’s Wife, 1996). I think it is cruel and unusual punishment that I got her when I was almost 6 and we shared a room for many years and then suddenly, we both marry and move thousands of miles apart. She knows my faults, my secrets, the worst of me. And has yet to disown me. She is and will always be the sister of my family heritage, and the sister of my heart.
The Moslander crew at Tami and Gerron’s 1987 wedding. I had already provided 5 of the 7 grandchildren and nieces and nephews for this family. Come on, people!
Robin is one of my favorite people in the entire world. And my sister-in-love.
Concerning New year’s Resolutions, Robin has decided to forgo the usual list of to-do lists to be tackled or goals to be mastered in exchange for pursuing the following:
Joy. I want to feel joy.
Moments. I want to ponder them.
Love. I want to love loving and not forget to do it.
Hope. I want to always hope because without it, the heart gets sick as the great book of Proverb says.
Stillness. I want to be still. Still enough to see the hurts of others, the milestones of my children, the twinkle in someone’s eye. Still enough to hear the voice of God.
Peace. Oh yes..the proverbial peace. But not world peace. It will never happen for the Bible tells me so (until that great day when the trump will sound). I want peace in this life that only Christ can give me as I really, really know and trust that He is the Keeper of my life. Those are the things I really want for my new year.
And one forever, encouraging thing about any new beginning is that we get them. I love new beginnings and I love even more that as long as I have breath, God’s mercies are new every morning. He gets it. He knew we would need a fresh start and so He tells us that it’s all ok with Him. Start fresh. Be renewed and free in the start of something new.
“I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all year.” Charles Dickens
I have a whole blog category called “Keep Christmas” inspired by this very quote. Keep: to continue, maintain, look after, maintain possession of. Provide and nourish it. Maintain, preserve and enjoy it. And what are we keeping anyway? The Christ Mass, the worship of Jesus Christ. Of course I will Keep Christmas. With all my heart!
The PJ Party
Of all our social engagements during the festive holidays, there is none so important nor more desirous for which to be invited than the PJ Party with the Grandbebes. The Little Prince himself called for this royal celebration this year, already having deemed it a most regal tradition.
This year’s soiree included “Ice” skating at The Orchard where Gemma promptly fell on her “buns” and did not like skating at all after that, telling every stranger who cared to engage her, “I can’t skate anymore, I am too little,” while Averi went at it as if she were born on ice and Guini fell if anyone skated past her within a 20-foot radius, presumably the wind itself knocking the little featherweight down. But she would laugh hilariously and get right back up and the boys? Well they were boys!. Then there was Taco Bell and these 5 can put away the chips and Nacho Cheese like nobody’s business.
Dave had the 2 little girls while I drove Gavin, Hunter and Guini home. We decided to sing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs, in between theologiocal discussions about how God could be everywhere at once and what God looks like and how God was right there in the car blessing Hunter and holding his hand that very second. Somewhere between “Let it Snow” and “Jingle Bells,” just after the kids had happily spotted the giant star atop the Christmas tree at the Brighton City Hall as we passed, Guini, moved by the true meaning of Christmas, led out a strong, rousing rendition of “Oh no, You never let go.” Yes. The Matt Redman song. And they worshipped their little heads off.
Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You
Then…
The annual Reindeer prints: footprint for the head, 2 hand prints for the antlers, the forefinger for eyes and a thumbprint for the nose. These were created to take home for mommys and daddys – a reminder of how much they have grown since last year. Colorful paint and water flew in every direction, but voila! Art!
Then hot chocolate for all and we got in our jammies and pulled the couch close to the TV for watching Sprout and Elf while munching on popcorn.
The Party lasts all night and into the morning.
At exactly 6:13 this morning, I heard the rumble of small feet tear through the house and shrieks of naughty glee and giggles pierced the sweet sleep I so longingly clung to. Capt’n Crunch Christmas Cereal, helping Poppa wrap presents and place them under the tree and early morning screenings of the classics: Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snowman, our very own film festival! They are making tents of blankets and Baby Jesus is missing. We have sent out a search party, but Gemma announces from the top of the stairs, in that particularly little-lamb voice of hers, “I can’t find Baby Jesus, Poppa. I don’t know where He is?…”
Sandy-the-Dog endures being placed in swaddling clothes, but does enjoy the crumbs and treats the grandbebes leave around the house.
Hunter informs me before leaving that we did not do the PJ Party “correctly” because there were no balloons and cake. He believes with all his heart that a PJ Party must have balloons and cake. {you try, right?}
“Two more ‘sleeps’ until Christmas,” the measurement Gavin and Hunter give to any upcoming event for which they can hardly wait.
Christmas is, after all, coming. In only 2 more sleeps!
Three nights before Christmas and all over town, there is much to be done and so many sounds…
1. Christmas with my family is pretty loud.
“Christmas at our house was like a Donny and Marie TV Special” (who said that?).
That cracks me up because it is like that for us, too. Rare is the quiet tree-lit silent night, or a room full of heavenly peace for pondering and reflecting. Even now, as I write this (on Monday night to be posted on Tuesday), it is late. And yet, the rooms are brightly shining and daughters have materials and supplies spread everywhere, working on Christmas projects and finishing last-minute gifts. They tease and cajole. They drink coffee and break out into song, filling the air with movie quotes and remembrances in a thoroughly unpredictable rhythm. Just now they are singing selections from the musical “Oklahoma,” for what reason, I do not know. I’d like to tell them to go to their rooms and get to sleep, but am reminded they are here now by choice, a gift to me, something I treasure. Let the madness remain.
2. I really do not like to shop. But at this point, I have no choice.
I power-shopped for more than 10 hours Monday. {sigh} I organized each person’s list according to every different retail establishment I would need to hit. I mapped out a plan, gathered coupons and those “free money” cards I have collected from said establishments (like $10 off a $25 purchase at JCP, $10 off any purchase at Kohls!) into a folder. I made sure to have my Starbucks giftcards for needed strength (did you know there is a company-wide shortage of caramel due to the popularity of the new Caramel Brulee Latte??!?) and most importantly, dedicated myself to having a good hair day because when you are going from morning to night, not having to worry about hair in imperative. Then I told Dave: this isn’t a pleasure trip, you know. The objective is to cross things off my list: quickly.
Several of my girls have asked for vintage/antique-type things so I added 3 thrift stores to my list, all within a short get-it-done radius. When we arrived at the first one and I leapt from the car with notebook and pen in hand and started bounding toward the door at break-neck speed, Dave commented, “There. See, honey? This store was created just for you.” For the big sign at the entrance read: ARC Thrift Store ~ Shopping with a Purpose.
Yes, I am a purpose-driven shopper.
3. I will continue to complain about the weather.
It was too stinking hot. It didn’t feel like Christmas with the weather in the 50’s, which is seriously impeding my glorious songs of old. But today, the temp has dropped! Here is what I want: Maybe the low 40’s with some big pretty snowflakes falling, but not on the streets-just along the sides so everything looks pretty and children can build men…and women. And just cool enough so you can wear the cute hat and adorable scarf set some one has given you (along with the coordinating fingerless gloves), but you don’t really need bulky coats. You know-cool enough that you’d look all New-England-wintry and Christmas-card-ish if you made a quick stop and took a few spins around the ice-skating rink while you were bustling about shopping, but not so cold no one can recognize you due to the outerwear overkill when, if you should fall, you would not, in fact, be able to get back up. Is this really too much to ask for???
Three movies that are not usually considered Christmas movies, but have great Christmas scenes in them:
[1] Funny Farm with Chevy Chase. [2] About a Boy with Hugh Grant and [3] While You Were Sleeping with Sandra Bullock (omygosh, I LOVE this movie!).
Three nights before Christmas, 3 French Hens, Three Wise Men, and three wishes from me to you: peace, joy and love!
pictured: DP, Tara and Hunter’s tree farm adventure a couple of weeks ago.
We scaled way back this year. We have been scaling back yearly, it seems. But we still mananged to get some of our favorites made and even a new thing or two, keeping that oven hot and hopping for hours. There are the wildly popular “Thin Mints,” a shameless and absolutely amazing rip-off of the Girl Scout cookies. The sugar cookies for decorating are made and await a coating of royal icing in delightful Christmas colors. Jovan used her new Pampered Chef cookie press to make the lightest most buttery press-cookies, dusted in colored sugars.
Stephanie has perfected peanut brittle. There are Mexican Wedding Cakes and Gingerbread Men, along with Peanut-Butter Kisses-Cookies and Chocolate-Covered Peanut Butter Balls heaped next to our chocolate-dipped pretzels and “Strawberry” cookies (which have no relation whatsoever to strawberries, other than how they look, but really are made from dates and pecans and coconut and Rice Krispies and fashioned to look like a strawberry – a Rhoades family fav from the 1950s and 60s). And more, yes, there is more.
Things change.
One interesting thing this year was computers. Looking around the kitchen and seeing 3 laptops (2 Macs and a PC) open to recipe sites – that was funny. So much for cute recipe cards, huh? It was also quieter and we missed Elise-the-Niece…Well, it was quieter, that is, until the boys and daddies joined us and a chaotic-Christmas-cheer ruckus ensued, fueled, undoubtedly by the pure sweetness of the ‘cane hitting the bloodstream.
The girls swarmed poor Santa
The guys show up for dinner at 6:30
The boys played cards with Aunt Dessa while the girls took our “food orders” for chicken nuggets and muffins, coffee and salad (their imaginary menus were limited and they are sort of pushy as waitresses, these granddaughters of mine). The ‘bebes chased each other, snuck sweets from piled-high trays of goodies and pushed Rudolph’s paw, making him sing the Rudolph song veeeeeery loudly, at least172times (that Rudolph nose was flashing like a traffic light, non-stop for hours!). I seriously wished for some one to decapitate Rudolph. But the grandbebes? Find him delightful.
Gemma was particularly artistic in her interpretive dancing, inspired by her viewing of “Frosty the Snowman.” Averi’s great joys were bringing handfuls of cookies to everyone, or unrolling toilet paper into the, shall we say, “bath bowl”, and I just hope there was no criss-crossing of these activities.
And at one point, so warmed by both this season of good will and by the way they’d been running like banchees, all five grandbebes ripped off their shirts and flung them like confetti into the air, thrilled to be set free from the confines of clothing so they could fully enjoy the twinkling lights and the Christmas music. “We’re nakey! We’re nakey!” Averi exclaimed with glee and they laughed as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever experienced.
Rocky and Tredessa interact with Santa as well.
Ah. It is the little things.
It took awhile to find every shoe and sock and coat amd mitten (and shirt) when it came time to go home with their large trays of cookies and candies. {Sigh}. But we did it…almost. I still have to make the marvelous butter-cookie dough from which will emerge Raspberry Ribbons and melt-in-your mouth Candy Cane Cookies, among other delights, and the Peppermint Bark awaits me this morning. But most of the holiday baking is complete for another year and it is way too much and more than enough and truly not as sweet as the time I got with my girls. And the whole bunch.
Today is trash day and I threw away enough leftovers this morning to have fed the whole group again! Tsk. I mean that gravy? Was a.m.a.z.i.n.g. Really. Amazing! If I do say so myself. Lots of other wonderful food, too, by all the great cooks who came to the table. Stef & Wrex’s famous Red Hot Jello, and Tristan’s homemade bread (o the toast I have enjoyed this week) and Dessa’s corn casserole and Tara’s o-so-creamy mashed potatoes and Leah’s Mexican Pasta (the woman cooked like it was all in her court) and Stormie’s fabulous, fabulous pumpkin pies and so much more. It was 6 or 7 meals in one!
We sang karaoke like maniacs.
Wrex reeeeeeeallly loves to sing those country-boy-tractor-woman-lovin’ songs! Us girls all did a rousing rendition of “You make me feel like a natural woman!” And songs by the Monkees were popular!
The people who got the “wear black” memo.
Left: Dessa. Leah, Stef, Ali, Stephanie, Dave, Stormie. Right: three cooks in their aprons.
Those Thanksgiving boots were made for walking.
Ali, Stormie, Jovan, Stef, Tara, Tredessa
Boots were definitely the fashion footwear of the day.
We played the arguing game* and Wii.
And a certain rather large contingency disappeared into the basement for XBox 360…or something? Dave even brought out his childhood electronic football game so the kiddos could see an antique toy. : )
*The “arguing game” is actually Cranium Party Play-Off, available at Starbucks.
Sweet children ran and tumbled and jumped and spinned round and round.
Gavin and Guini, Hunter and Gemma, Averi and Samuel and Moses. They got along so well and were so sweet!
Family, by blood, by the Spirit, by choice.
Tredessa and Tara; Andy and Leah
Leah and Tara; Tara and DP; Stefanie and Wrex (aka “Sexy Wrexy”)
