Counting sticks

/

I didn't mean to lie to you, dear readers, but I did. In this post right here. Today, though, I plan to set the record straight.

You see, in that post about filling my grandma bag for my trip to the desert, I mentioned an activity that used straws and pony beads for a nifty little activity to encourage counting and fine motor skills. I intended to pack those items in my grandma bag but hadn't yet done so. And once I purchased the straws and attempted sliding a few pony beads on them just to see how easy it would be for Bubby, the cussing and straw-scrunching that ensued made it clear the <cussing> beads didn't fit on the <cussing> straws and Gramma would need to make some adjustments to the craft.

So I did. And here's the skinny on the crafty counting sticks Bubby enjoyed making and counting with—and that garnered high praise from Megan, an early childhood educator who thought the idea was quite creative and useful for even a classroom of kiddos.

What you'll need:

10 extra-long pipecleaners (I used 10 as I figured counting to 10 would be reasonable practice for Bubby, who's three and a half. You could go higher, if desired.)

pony beads

1 or 2 index cards cut into squares an inch or so in size and neatly numbered 1 through 10

clear tape

What you'll do:

Fold up about an 1/8-inch on the end of each pipe cleaner and twist around itself so there's no pokey parts to stab little fingers. On one end of each pipe cleaner, tape a numbered square; laying the pipe cleaner across the back of the number and securing with a single strip of tape works just fine.

Your work is done!

Now give your child the pipe cleaners and a bowl of pony beads with instructions to add as many beads as the number on each end.

Bubby thoroughly enjoyed adding beads—picking out "special" ones—then counting them over and over on their sticks, just to be sure it was right. I enjoyed watching his intense concentration as he threaded beads then carefully counted.

Once all pipe cleaners were filled, we pulled off the beads and started all over again. In fact, these photos were from Bubby's second day of playing with the sticks (just after waking, I might add, hence the jammies and adorable bedhead hairstyle).

There! Record set straight: Straws don't work; pipe cleaners do.

Today's question:

Did you—or your children—use an abacus to help master counting?

Pledge of the long-distance grandma

/

We all know the pledge of the United States Postal Service: “Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds.” I propose a similar pledge for long-distance grandmas, only the obstacles—at least in my case—go far beyond the basic blustery weather.

For example, when I visited Bubby and Baby Mac last August, I encountered a haboob that delayed my return home:

 

Then, when Jim and I drove to see our grandsons last October, the return trip featured an epic traffic situation that left us sitting—literally, at a standstill—on the interstate for three hours:

And last night, as I attempted to make my way home from a week with Bubby and Baby Mac, a blizzard threatened my return, resulting in delayed arrival (and fears arrival wouldn't happen at all, courtesy of the pilot stating as we prepared to take off into the storm, "We'll give it a try and we'll see what happens"):

 

Okay, okay...the photo above isn't an actual shot of last night's snowstorm, but you get the idea.

Yes, like the Postal Service, neither haboobs nor treachery on the highway nor snowstorms of any significance can keep me from my appointed rounds with my grandsons. But...all of the above and more sure as <cuss> muck up my return home after each and every visit anymore, without fail.

I've had enough, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

Well, at least not until April, that is. For in April I take my next trip to the desert to play full-time grandma again, and I won't let <cuss> conditions of any sort keep me from getting there.

Getting home, though, will unfortunately surely follow what has become this long-distance grandma's traveling protocol. Especially considering that April is typically one of the snowiest months in the Rockies; I can pretty much tell you now getting back home afterwards isn't going to be easy. Or fun.

My grandsons and their parents can still count on me being there, though. Like I said, it's not the getting to them that's the problem, it's getting back home again. But the USPS pledge gives no guarantee nor particulars on the return of its postmen. The same shall apply to the long-distance grandma pledge, too—whether I like it or not.

Snowstorm photo: stock.xchng/tes

Today's question:

What obstacles do you anticipate encountering in your travels this weekend—even if only to the grocery store?

Hanging up my grandma bag

/

Some of you may recall posts I've written about my grandma bag, my nifty little tote of tricks for entertaining Bubby (and now Baby Mac) when I travel to visit them. Well, I'm hanging up my grandma bag, will use it no more. At least not my original bag, the one that looked like this:  

Because, folks, this grandma's got a new and improved and personalized grandma bag—a Christmas gift from my grandbabies—and it looks like this:

As I pack my new grandma bag for its inaugural use—my trip to the desert next week—I'm reminded of that old camp and Girl Scout game wherein everyone takes turns mentioning items they'll be packing for their trip to Spain or the moon or wherever the group decides they'll pretend to be going. You may recall playing it when you were young or with your kids. One person starts off saying something like, "I'm taking a trip to Kalamazoo and in my suitcase I've packed a pair of long johns." Then the next person goes, reciting what the first said and adding another item. Round and round the game play goes, with the list getting longer and memorization skills being more challenged (with memorization being much easier when there's an alphabetical theme to the game).

That game has been on my mind as I pack my grandma bag for next week's trip. Only my little ditty goes something like this: I'm taking a trip to the desert and in my grandma bag I've packed...Styrofoam bowls, pipe cleaners, pony beads, some drinking straws, a can of shaving cream, a package of aluminum foil, a roll of masking tape...

Why, oh why, am I packing such oddball items? I'm glad you asked, for they're not oddball at all once you see what I plan to do with those things, which are these activities I recently added to my "GRAND kids" board on Pinterest:  

In my grandma bag I'll have all I need for Bubby and me to make, from left to right above, colorful jellyfish using Styrofoam bowls and crepe streamers. They're sure to please both Bubby and Baby Mac and remind them—well, at least Bubby—of our recent visit to the aquarium.

The pipe cleaners will be used for all kinds of creative creepy crawly critters, taking our pipe-cleaner fun far beyond the pipe-cleaner hats and glasses Bubby and I made in the past.

With a handful of drinking straws and some pony beads, Bubby can work on his fine-motor skills and number recognition by threading beads onto straws to match the number glued atop each straw. Flexible drinking straws, with the flexy end opposite the number, can be flexed to temporarily keep the beads on once they've been threaded.

A roll of aluminum foil becomes a stream o' fun when rolled out across the yard, beginning at the water faucet. Scrunch up the foil edges to contain the stream, turn on the water to a trickle, and Bubby and Baby Mac will be mesmerized for hours. (Such wet fun can be had in the desert whereas we'd have frozen fingers and rivers fit only for ice skating if we tried such a thing at Gramma's house this time of year.)

We'll use the roll of masking tape—along with some of Bubby's kajillion cars—just like this:

And the shaving cream? Well, I have no Pinterest picture to share, but Bubby and I already know darn well what good, clean fun comes from mounds upon mounds of shaving cream during bath time. I think it's high time for Baby Mac to give it a try. I'll also throw a bottle or two of bubbles into my grandma bag for blowing bubbles in the bathtub, too.

Additional things I'll be adding to my new-and-improved grandma bag: books, movies, and music, along with my grandma apron to don while cooking up goodies for my grandsons.

I'm taking a trip to the desert and in my grandma bag I've packed...all kinds of things to keep Bubby, Baby Mac and me as busy as can be. I can't wait!

Today's fill in the blank:

I'd like to take a trip to ____ and in my bag I'd be sure to pack _____.

Long-distance grandparenting: The flip side of the coin

/

On this blog and in real-life interactions I regularly whine, complain, hee-haw and boo-hoo about the role I've been given as a long-distance grandma. The fact my grandsons live 815 miles away is a challenge, a heartbreaker, and most definitely not the way I want things to be.

That being said, though—and clearly, perfectly, deeply understood by one and all, I hope, especially the one in charge of granting me time with my precious grandsons—the flip side of the long-distance-grandparenting coin is that I don't have to see my grandchildren on a daily basis, not even on a weekly basis.

Have to? Is that what you really meant?, I imagine some asking.

That's exactly what I meant. Because despite the visions of calm, cool, collected Grandma baking up cookies, tossing dice in another round of Chutes and Ladders, or giggling giddily as grandchildren gather at her knee for story time, playing grandma is hard work. It's exhausting, to be quite frank. And it circumvents anything and everything else this grandma—like any other grandma—has going on in her life.

When my grandsons visit, I struggle to get my work done—housework and office work. I'm fortunate that I work from home, although that does mean taking vacation days for visits with the grandchildren is impossible. So I fit in what I can, where I can, when we're together. Sure, loving on those beautiful boys is far more important than doing dishes, cleaning the cat box, vacuuming the floor and making beds. As sage advice recommends, those things can wait. Making a living, well, not so much. When there's an adorable youngster awaiting a hug, hike, dance party, story time, bath or any other activity that would surely warm my heart more than pounding out a few paragraphs, there's no doubt what wins out. Meaning having to choose between work and grandma play only every couple of months is a good thing—mostly for my bank account.

When I'm around the little ones, at my place or theirs, I also don't exercise as I should, don't read what I should, don't eat as I should. I definitely don't sleep as I should, either, because how can I waste minutes sleeping—or doing any of those other activities—when I could be savoring each and every second I have with the true loves of my life? I can't. And I don't. Another reason the long-distance thing is best for me, it seems, as it's all too easy to let anything and everything else slide while I slide, swing, sing, dance—live!—with my grandsons.

Many grandmas never have to consider such things because not all grandparents are long-distance grandparents. In fact, from my vantage point, it seems the majority are fortunate in that they have a more up-close-and-personal grandparenting experience than mine. I often hear the stories of grandparents who see their grandkids on a weekly basis, for school functions, fun visits, Saturday sleepovers, and Sunday dinners. Some serve as daycare—primary or backup—for the kiddos, spending most days of the week cooking, carpooling, catering to the grandkids. Playing and hugging and enjoying them, too, I have no doubt.

Those locally grown grandparents have different considerations, though. Or so I've heard. Things such as parents dropping by unannounced hoping Grandma and Grandpa can watch the kids for just a bit while they run errands, grocery shop, go to a movie, go to the doctor or dinner. I've also heard of local grandparents being unexpectedly expected to pitch in with childcare when a little one is sick and Mom and Dad absolutely cannot take another sick day at work—despite Grandma and Grandpa often having an outside job to attend, too. I've heard stories of simmering resentments, about lack of communication regarding boundaries, of inconsiderate connections. Sure, I'd love for my grandchildren to live locally, but such tales are ones I'm glad I don't know firsthand.

I'm also glad I don't know firsthand the challenges faced by those admirable grandparents who have taken on the role of parent, signing on to be primary caregiver of their grandchildren because of unforeseen circumstances that put them in that position, for better or for worse. They step up, they support, they discipline, they raise, and most of all, they see—and love—their grandchildren every single second of every single day.

I, on the other hand, see my grandsons about 35 days total in a year's time, broken into bite-sized visits of several days here and there every other month or so. Which amounts to basically 10 percent of my time spent in active grandma mode. That leaves 90 percent of my time spent in any other mode I choose, any and every mode unrelated to loving on little ones. I appreciate that time, appreciate that opportunity, appreciate the ability to focus on me things, me time.

Don't get me wrong: Those days that make up the 10 percent dedicated to grandparenting are the very best, the very brightest of my whole entire year. I wouldn't give them up for anything, and I continually clamor for more. I'm just thankful that not every single day, not every single week is equally shiny, for such brilliance would surely burn me out. Quickly.

And a burned-out grandma—much more so than a long-distance grandma—is a long, long way from the kind of grandma I want to be.

This post linked to Grandparents Say It Saturday.

Today's question:

What role takes up the biggest chunk of your days and what role do you wish took up the biggest chunk of your days?