Tag: grandchildren

Update

In mid-July, our eighteen-year-old grandson, Garrett, was diagnosed with a neuroendocrine tumor following an emergency appendectomy. On Friday, he underwent surgery to resection a portion of his colon and to remove a few lymph nodes.

The surgery went well and his surgeon does not believe that the tumor has metastasized into the lymph nodes. We won’t know for certain, of course, until they receive the pathology reports. At any rate, we feel optimistic.

Garrett has had a rough few days post-surgery. I won’t go into details, but he’s been in a great deal of pain and has needed two blood transfusions. He’s in good hands, but it’s hard knowing he’s hurting and I feel helpless.

It’s been difficult not getting to see him and hug him, but Covid restrictions limit the number of visitors. At least his mom (my daughter) and his dad have been able to be with him. Besides, I’m a hoverer and would likely annoy the heck out of him.

So, I’m here on the sidelines, hanging out with Garrett’s two younger sisters. I’d say I’m taking care of them, but they’re both pretty self-sufficient. The 16 year-old could probably run the country. The nine-year-old could provide the comic relief. Mainly I think I’m here to keep the pets in line.

Match
Snuggles
Roo

So far, the pets are winning.

Their family has a terrific support system—my son-in-law’s parents and sister have checked in on us, fed us, and kept us entertained. Neighbors and friends have brought food and vegetables and even a lovely little plant. The little town of Port Byron seems to be filled with caring people.

We appreciate all of the prayers and good vibes. Garrett may require an additional surgery this week; although, we hope it doesn’t come to that. Sorry if this is a bit of a ramble. Just trying to get it all straight in my head.

Peace, people.

Virtual Graduation

Our grandson, Garrett, graduated from Riverdale high school near Port Byron, Illinois, on Sunday afternoon. Studly Doright and I weren’t able to attend, but we watched the commencement exercises live on YouTube. It really was the next best thing to being there.

We’re so proud of Garrett. He’s headed to Bradley University in Peoria, IL, in the fall where he plans to study game design.

We’ll see Garrett and the rest of his family next weekend when we travel to the Quad Cities to attend a party in his honor. I’m ready to distribute hugs.

Peace, people!

Toddler Conversation

Studly Doright and I have five beautiful grandchildren—no surprise there, aren’t ALL grandchildren beautiful? The oldest two are seniors in high school and will graduate in a couple of weeks. Born three months apart, Dominique and Garrett turned our lives upside down, in the best possible way. Grandchildren are God’s greatest gift, but that’s just my opinion.

Garrett and Dominique

When they were very small they lived close enough to have almost daily interaction and their conversations were hilarious. Years ago I put a couple of those conversations together for a blog post. It still makes me laugh.

https://nananoyz5formewordpress.wordpress.com/2014/08/30/oh-dear/

Peace, people!

Mother’s Day Gifts

I arrived home from my whirlwind trip to Bartlesville, Oklahoma, late on Sunday. Studly Doright had cooked dinner for me in honor of Mother’s Day and then after dinner brought out the gifts my children sent me.

My favorite gifts by far were the framed senior pictures of my grandson, Garrett, and my granddaughter, Dominique. It’s hard to believe they’ll be graduating from their respective high schools in just a few weeks, and starting college in the fall, but the pictures can be used as evidence.

Where did the time go?

Peace, people!

A Texas Sized Love

Today in my February celebration of love I am featuring our Texas grandkids.

That’s D, above. D is our eldest grandchild. She’s 17 and a junior in high school. D is a talented tennis player on her high school’s team. She’s also developed an interest in baking, and has a weakness for macarons. Oh, she has a pet hedgehog and several cats. I’m not certain where this picture was taken, but it looks groovy.

J, her brother, is 13, and the next to the youngest of our five grandchildren. He plays trumpet in the school band and is a serious skateboarder. The kid taught himself to swim when he was just a little tyke, and he is fearless both in the water and out. He’s got a fine collection of knives, some of which he’s found while exploring at estate sales. He’s a motorcyclist, too. I think this photo was taken at a concert.

The two of them are smarter than I am. They get jokes that go over my head, and they actually get along with one another. I’m more than a little proud of them. I just wish I could see them more often.

Peace and love, people.

Love in the Time of February

During the last week of January I had the thought that I should write something about love every day in February. We need a lot of love right now. Love for our family, our friends, ourselves, even for complete strangers. And with Valentines Day sitting smack dab in the middle of the month, it seemed the perfect time to express feelings of love each day.

Somehow, though, I became distracted and forgot about the love theme. Is it okay to begin a month-long theme on the fourth day of the month? Of course it is. The only rule for blogging is: There are no rules.

So, to kick off my month of love, here’s a photo of two people I love:

That’s our beautiful daughter, Ashley, holding her nephew, our youngest grandson, Jackson, on her wedding day. Jackson is now a handsome teenager. This photo makes my heart happy. I love them both so much.

Peace, people.

Sitting by Nana

I’m accustomed to dining alone in restaurants, smiling at small children and making faces at babies while their elders chat and eat.

Seldom do I feel jealous of their familial camaraderie, but sometimes, I hear,

“Nana, sit here. Sit by me!”

“No, I get to sit by Nana. Right, Nana?”

And I long for those days when my grandchildren argued over who would get to sit next to me, the revered Nana, at a meal.

I watched yesterday as two young children clamored to share space with their Nana at lunch. I bit my tongue to keep from saying “Lucky you!” to the Nana being fought over. I wanted to encourage her to savor this time. All too soon these children would be teenagers obsessed with their iPhones or grumbling that they’re bored and they’d rather be with friends or hurrying through lunch because they couldn’t be late for some activity.

Nowadays, when I’m lucky enough to dine with my grandkids, I resist saying,”I want to sit by Garrett (or McKayla or Dominique or Jackson or Harper)” because that just wouldn’t be cool, but I sure think about it.

Peace, people.

Rest and Recuperation

Since the Illinois grandkids left on Thursday I’ve been slowly getting back into my normal routine, but mainly I’ve been catching up on sleep. While the two teenagers weren’t early risers during their visit, the six-year-old came creeping into our room every morning around five.

On the days Studly was working in Orlando I’d just tuck Harper in on her Poppa’s side of the bed, and we’d doze off to the sleep stories featured on my Calm app, but every other morning last week she was ready to eat breakfast way before my eyes were ready to be open. The two of us had some pretty comical conversations about fairies, cities versus states, and family relationships while eating early morning Pop Tarts, so I’m not complaining.

On the Wednesday night before the kids’ 6:25 a.m. flight home we stayed at a hotel that was about a 15 minute drive from the Sanford/Orlando airport. Studly had to work clear across town on Thursday, so it was up to me to get the kids on their way. I set my alarm for three a.m., but Harper’s feet in my face woke me up around two. Gently I moved her back into a position parallel to mine, rather than the perpendicular one she’d assumed.

Then what sounded like four quick gunshots caused grandson Garrett to sit straight up in bed. He never awakened, just quietly laid back down, but I was then on high alert. I tossed and turned until my alarm went off, then stubbed my toe on McKayla’s sofa bed on my way to the bathroom in the dark. I’m really glad the kids all slept through my colorful string of whispered curse words.

The teenagers were surprisingly easy to get going that morning. Oddly enough only Harper, the early riser, resisted. Soon, though, she was up and going full speed. I think the anticipation of seeing her Mommy and Daddy in a few short hours did the trick.

We took the 4:30 a.m. hotel shuttle to the airport and I’d thought that was absurdly early; however, an accident on the Interstate (remember those “gunshots”? Apparently we’d heard a crash) had traffic backed up, and by the time we checked in, went through security, and made it to our gate the flight was boarding.

I hugged my sweet grandkids and watched them board.

They looked so young and yet so capable as they left me.

I rode the shuttle back to the hotel where I’d planned to nap before taking a shower and driving the four and a half hours home to Doright Manor, but I was pretty keyed up after all the morning’s activity, so I packed and got on the road. Emergency crews were still cleaning up the interstate after the crash, so I set my gps to take backroads. About two hours into my trip I found myself unable to keep my eyes open, so I found a shady spot for a nap. After waking myself with a loud snore half an hour later, I continued on home.

Said home was sadly quiet. I busied myself with straightening up some of the mess we’d made over the past week. The Risk game went back into the game closet. The stuffed animals went back into their basket. Two remaining boxes of Pop Tarts went into a grocery bag to be offered to a friend’s children.

Studly arrived home later that evening, and we struggled to stay awake until finally giving up the battle around eight. I slept restlessly that first night without the kids. Part of me wished a sweet six-year-old could still sneak into my room for giggly snuggles before sunrise. Did I mention that it’s too quiet here?

Peace, people.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

One evening during the grandkids’ visit we sat around the dining room table playing a game of Risk. The two older kids and I were locked in a heated battle over the Congo, a territory that changed hands roughly 20 times during the course of the evening. Total world domination depended on taking and keeping that spot.

The youngest grandchild, six year old Harper, was an eager onlooker and rolled the dice for me when I had to take clothes out of the dryer or refresh the snacks.

Apropos of nothing between turns, Harper said, “Nana, I really love your lights over the table.”

“That’s called a chandelier,” sister McKayla said.

“Yeah. I really like your chandelier,” Harper said. “It’s so decorative.”

“Then you can have it when I die,” I said.

After a couple of beats Harper said, “I sure hope you die soon.”

“Harper!” The horrified teenagers said in unison. “Don’t say things like that!”

I just giggled. “Harper, I hope it’s not too soon. My death would keep us from going to Sea World this week.”

“Well, I really want the gems in the bathroom, too.”

“Gems?” I asked.

“You know, the ones you use to turn the water on and off.”

“Whoever buys the house will get all that stuff,” I said.

“Then I’ll buy your house,” Harper replied.

I guess that settles everything.

(Harper’s house has much nicer fixtures than mine does. I’d gladly trade her, and perhaps be granted a longer life.)

Peace, people.

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