How to survive being a long-distance grandma ... of a baby

Bubby celebrates his second birthday this week, which means I've made it a full two years playing grandma from 819 miles away. At first I didn't think I would make it -- at least not without a maxed-out credit card from hundreds of flights to visit Bubby or hundreds of visits to a therapist to help me deal with the distance.

It was upon learning I'd be a grandma that I fully grasped the definition of the word 'bittersweet.' I was thrilled to have a grandbaby on the way, but it literally hurt my heart to know I'd be only a minor player in the baby's daily life, due to distance. My search for books and websites related to my plight turned up primarily information on how to stay connected to grandchildren of a more advanced age, very little on connecting with a newborn or baby.

So I plodded along, making up my own rules, my own way of coping with the distance between myself and my newborn grandson. Now that time has passed and I'm a seasoned long-distance grandma of a baby -- a baby who has grown into a toddler -- I feel qualified to pass along a few tips on how I survived the less-than-ideal situation, in hopes of helping other grandmas dealt the same bittersweet hand I was two years ago.

Get there often ... with permission. Visit the websites of the airlines that provide service between you and the little one, then sign up for their newsletters highlighting special deals. Take advantage of those deals, visiting as often as your budget -- and the baby's parents -- allow. Never, ever surprise the little family with a visit, though, as there's nothing more unnerving than unexpected guests, even when it's Grandma.

Use that webcam. Most newer computers come with a built-in webcam; learn to use it to Skype on a regular basis. Sure, the baby can't interact much in the first year or so, but you can see live shots of the little one. And slowly but surely that baby will sprout into a toddler and be happy to see Grandma's smiling face on the monitor. It's the next best thing to being there.

The telephone still comes in handy. Mom and Dad are busy raising Junior and won't have as much time to sit in front of the webcam as you'd like. So telephone calls are great for quickly touching base and keeping your voice top of mind for the baby -- as long as Mom or Dad don't mind holding the receiver up to the ear of the oblivious kiddo.

Can't beat Picasa for pictures. Save Mom and Dad some time -- and some long-winded begging from you for photos of the baby -- by encouraging the use of Picasa. If they'll upload photos on a regular basis, you can download them to your computer then print any and all those you want for framing and displaying, all without Mom or Dad having to pay for printing and/or postage. Picasa also makes it possible to display the photos on your computer desktop. I'd be lost without Picasa ... or at least just really sad and lonely for my Bubby.

Send pictures of yourself to be placed in baby's view. As soon as Bubby was born, I got busy creating a photo frame to be placed in his room so he could see it on a regular basis. The words "My Grandma & Grandpa" outline the photo of me and Jim, providing a constant reminder of Grandma and Grandpa, despite the miles between us.

A mommy or daddy blog ups the ante. Some grandparents advise others to get on Facebook with their adult children to make it simple to share photos and news of the grandkids. To me, that's not private enough; I don't like that all the "friends" on either end, some not really friends at all, just mere acquaintances, can see everything shared. Yeah, privacy settings can be set to the max, but it's much more private and personal when Mom or Dad create a blog for sharing the news with real friends and family. Blogger.com is an easy and free place to blog and integrates well with Picasa. Plus, a blog creates a wonderful record of the baby's growth.

Give them space, stay outta their face. The baby is the most important thing in lives of the new mom and dad right now, not pleasing grandma. Despite all the opportunities for making yourself a part of the baby's life, don't make a nuisance of yourself just because you simply can't get enough of that kid. Be happy with what you're given, and don't take offense if it's not as much as you'd like. 

Get busy. As noted above, you don't want to be a thorn in the side of the new parents, and the best way to avoid being one is to get on with your life. Find other things to keep you busy, other things to take your mind off missing your grandchild. Racking up experiences unrelated to grandparenting makes you a much more interesting -- and happy -- person, which goes a long way in making the moments you do have with your grandchild far more enjoyable.

Being a long-distance grandma of a baby is harder on the heart than it looks, but you can survive. I did. There really is no other choice. But take heart that there really is a light at the end of the tunnel, for the older your grandchild gets, the easier it is to stay connected, despite those unforgiving miles in between.

Today's question:

What do you consider the ideal distance for adult children to live from their parents?

My answer: I definitely don't want my kids living next door or even on the same block -- we all need a little space -- but my preference would be for my daughters to live a max of a one-hour drive away. Hey, I can dream!

Skyping 'bout school

(Not from Skype, but the happy face that filled the screen just the same.)

Bubby is attending "school" this week, participating in the summer camp for two-year-olds at church while Megan works the VBS. He loves the class, the interaction with the "teacher" and other kids, and he had lots to share with us about his day during our Skype session Tuesday night.

First he held up to the web camera his newly planted flower: a Play-Doh container packed with dirt, and somewhere within, a seed he's hoping will bloom. Relying on Megan to translate, Bubby told Grandma and Grandpa all about the "dirt," the "flower" and "water." We kinda sorta understood those words ... as long as Megan repeated them for us.

Next up was a picture of which Bubby was oh-so proud: A popsicle-stick frame embellished with glued-on buttons perfectly complementing a plant picture cut from a magazine. High art for a toddler!

Seems that "plants" was the theme of the day, and Bubby learned lots about plants in his few hours of "school." And he was more focused than usual during the Skype session, as he wanted to be sure Grandma and Grandpa heard -- and saw -- all he had gleaned from the day.

It was pretty exciting on our end to get our first glimpse of what it will be like when Bubby calls us up after a day of real school, to animatedly share via Skype the news -- and art projects -- of the day.

Only thing is, Bubby and Grandpa will have to come up with some other male-bonding motion by that time, as doing "knucks" at the end of the conversation already rocks and knocks the computer monitor on Bubby's end. I can only imagine what it will do when it's a five-year-old -- or older -- punching fists on the screen with Grandpa!

Today's question:

When recalling doing art projects as a child, what's one thing that stands out in your mind?

My answer: The smell of the paste. I remember the tubs of paste with a stick applicator attached to the lid and trying to spread the goo where it needed to go. Of course it never applied smoothly, thanks to the rigid stick, so cutouts glued to paper always had a lump here and there. I loved squishing down those bumps of glue, releasing the sweet scent of a masterpiece in the making.

Bikes, trikes and big boy beds

Bubby tackled two big milestones this past week: getting his first bike and moving out of the crib and into a big boy bed.

The bike, actually a trike, was a birthday gift from his paternal grandparents.

He's still getting the hang of the coordination for the pedaling, Megan said. But I have no doubt that he'll have it down in no time!

The move from the crib to the big boy bed didn't actually require a move at all, just a conversion of his crib. (Smart designing of cribs nowadays, wouldn't ya say!)

Megan said the first night went fantastic. She told Bubby it was bedtime, he crawled up in place, and he stayed there all night long! There was no crying, no waking in the night, no falling out and bonking his head.

That shouldn't be too surprising, of course, because I've probably mentioned before that Bubby is absolutely perfect!

With the exception, I should add, of the position in which he sleeps!

Today's question:

TGIF! What are your plans for the weekend?

Roller Bubby

The skater boy. (Phone photo sent to Grandma in real time!)Megan, a pre-K teacher, had her first roller skating night with her students Wednesday night.

It was also her first roller skating experience with Bubby!

Believe it or not, they make itsy-bitsy Fisher Price roller-skates for tots. And the PR woman for the local roller rink told Megan that two-year-olds actually learn to skate quicker than four- or five-year-olds. Reason being, according to the PR woman, that the little ones have shorter legs and less fear. I'm not sure why, but the 'shorter legs' part struck me as funny.

So Megan took her shorter-legged little Bubby along for the event. And he did great! It took him a bit to get used to the skates and to not be shy around the bigger kids, but Megan said he eventually got the hang of it. His lack of smiles and giggles stumped Megan a bit, though, so she asked her serious-faced little boy, "Are you having fun? Do you like it?" to which the concentrating kiddo said only, "I like it!"

All in all, Bubby fell just twice in his four times around the rink. That's four times around a big ol' rink for a little boy who's not yet two years old and not yet three feet tall. Oh, and who has shorter legs!

I find it interesting that of all the things that have changed in the past 30, 40, 50 years, that roller skating is still a hit with the kids. Consider the changes in nearly all aspects of childhood, everything from 3D ultrasounds and diaper genies to fancy-schmancy game systems and cell phones. But slapping on a pair of wheels and whizzing around a rink still appeals. Even in the disastrous economic climate of the last year or two, roller skating rinks prevail.

As a preteen, I loved roller skating night. It meant so much more than just skating. The outings weren't school-sponsored, as there was no rink in our small town, but my best friend's mom was happy to transport a group of giddy preteens "down the pass" from our mountain town to the city, to Skate City -- the old Skate City ... with all-wood floors.

Fifteen or so kids would hop in the back of Miss Leona's pickup in the late afternoon and huddle under the piles of blankets to stay warm. (Note: I would never in a million years allow my daughters to ride in the back of a pickup. But this was back in the days when people did that. Legally.) On the trip down the pass, the girls would be on one side of the truck, the boys on the other. (Yes, it was co-ed. But again, it was back in the day ... when hanky-panky between preteens wasn't even a consideration.)

Travel time was about 30 minutes, but it felt like hours as our excitement would reach fever pitch. Finally, we'd reach Skate City, spill out of the truck and into the rink, where we'd don our skates and scatter to the floor. Some of us were pros on the floor, crossing over feet at the turns, skating backwards, winning the limbo and speed contests, attracting the attention of the city kids with our prowess.

I wasn't one of those kids. I usually stayed within arm's length of the wall for the first hour or so, then eventually ventured out closer to the center. Near the end of the two-hour session I could even get up enough speed to get my long hair fluttering as I'd whiz (relatively speaking, that is) around the corners ... sometimes even managing to cross over my feet on the turns. And sometimes I'd even be asked to join hands with an equally awkward preteen boy for the slow skate.

Then the session would be over.

We'd all pile back into the truck and under the blankets for the trip back up the pass. It was far colder by that time and the huddling was a little more intimate than during the trip down. The girls' legs became entangled with the boys' and we'd all laugh and joke, keeping our heads under the blanket trying to stay warm and out of the wind.

It was joyous, innocent fun, those nights at the roller skating rink. And I'm thrilled to know the roller skating rituals continue, that Bubby will experience the wind in his own wheels. Starting at such a young age, I can only assume he'll be one of those preteens who can skate backward, win the limbo, dominate the speed contests. That's just a guess, of course.

But all guessing aside, I can pretty much guarantee that Bubby will never, ever, ever get to the rink by riding in the back of a pickup truck. That part of roller-skate nights has definitely changed.

Some changes of the last 30, 40, 50 years are for darn good reason!

Today's question:

When was the last time you roller skated?

My answer: Probably 20 years ago, when helping the girls around the rink during their first roller skating nights in elementary school. Gah! Get me to a rink quick, before I get too old!

Reason #37 why distance matters

Bubby LOVED his 1st Birthday cake!Bubby will soon be turning two years old. Very cool, very exciting ... and very frustrating because he's so darn far away.

Although there are still weeks between now and the big day, mere weeks means time is ticking away for those of us wanting to book a ticket to fly in for the festivities. Meaning many of the conversations of late with Bubby's aunts revolve around "Are you going?" Meaning: "Can you afford to pay to fly in for cake and ice cream this year? And will this be the plan every year? Will you forever going forward be able to fork out funds -- and vacation days -- to sing Happy Birthday to our precious Bubby?"

Jim and I will go. Definitely. Each and every year. Probably. But Andrea and Brianna may not be able to fly to the desert to celebrate Bubby's birthday each and every year. Especially once they're entrenched in their own families -- or even long-term relationships -- because then there's the question of "Does the whole family go?"

Yes, I know that not all families gather 'round for each and every birthday. But my family likes to, as much as possible.

And it's not as if Megan's planning some huge shebang for Bubby, like the festivities for his first birthday. And she clearly understands that cost is a major hindrance to attending even the smallest of affairs. She's attached no obligation, no hard feelings for those who can't make it.

But the thing is, we all want to make it. We all want to celebrate the major milestones of Bubby's life. But all the cuss miles between us make that difficult. And frustrating. And reason to lament, once again, that Megan and Preston live in the desert while the rest of us live in the mountains.

Guess it's easier -- and more reasonable -- to lament that than to lament that we've not yet won Powerball or Publishers Clearing House (or a ridiculously lucrative book contract), which would make the miles between us irrelevant. For if we were rich, we wouldn't have to consider dollars. Or days off work.

Or distance.

Today's question:

If money were no consideration, to where would you most want to book a plane ticket?