Last evening I was invited to attend a friendly get together (a reunion of sorts) with a group of NDSU Emergency Management alumni at the Bison Turf. As much as I would have liked to attend and visit with former students I have not had a chance to see for awhile, I had a higher calling that trumped all other activities (to include other wildly thrilling things like doing laundry and washing dishes). The higher calling – being grandson Lennon’s babysitter for a few hours. Last night was my first official Lennon babysitting gig.
OMG – life sure has changed. Saturday night and my hands-down choice for entertainment is spending time with a one month old. Well, actually a one month old and 49 year old…part of the entertainment was definitely watching Lennon with Mike. What an interesting juxtaposition - big Mike and little Lennon – both transfixed with each other.
Here is Lennon realizing that his parents left him with Glamma!
Lennon telling a fish tale – “It was this big!”
Lennon showing Mike who’s boss!
I have been thinking for the past couple of weeks that a fairly dramatic change is occurring in me. My first awareness of the change was when I started thinking that perhaps my next car should be a sensible grown-up car (as opposed to a matchbox-sized sporty car that strikes me as sexy). I caught myself daydreaming about four doors and storage capacity. I know…bizarre, right? Where did this responsible citizen come from??
Then while at Kohl’s last week with Cheyenne I had a realization that while there were plenty of clothes in the junior section that I liked and could wear – could does not equate with should. I actually thought to myself – that ship has sailed. The days of liberally shopping for my clothes in both the junior and the women’s department are apparently over. And while I may not be moving wholesale from my high heels to comfortable shoes as of yet - my ratio of high heels to comfortable shoes is becoming alarmingly balanced.
The final mental notation of change that has creeped into my consciousness as of late is the way I view the term “old”. I used to balk at the term when it was applied to me, but increasingly I am warming to it. And no, I am not warming to it in the middle of a hot flash – I am just finding it doesn’t bother me to be identified as someone who is of the age that they have the privilege of having grandchildren.
Ah yes, the cementing of the glamma identity is in full force.
In two weeks I will visit my two older grandchildren – Noah Jr. (7 in September) and Cortney (turned 3 in April) - in Canada. I cannot wait to see them. I have not been able to see them for an entire year and I miss them terribly. I will once again travel with my son Noah to Wakefield, Quebec (and yes, it will be a revisit of last year’s Oprah and Gayle’s big adventure ).
I am already amassing things I want to bring to Noah Jr. and Cortney and space in my suitcase is quickly becoming sparse. No worry though – how many pairs of comfortable shoes does a glamma need for one trip?
Day one thousand one hundred and five of the new forty – obla di obla da