Silly GrandMary

Just because it makes me smile. Just because I love the little dimple next to GrandBoy's mouth. Just because making silly faces is what GrandMarys do.

FutureHope

I have great hope for the future. I have to. With a daughter and son-in-law and GrandBoy who will be living out their days long after I'm gone (God willing), how can the future be anything but hope-filled? Nieces and nephews, cousins and second cousins, and all their daughters and sons are growing and thriving, learning and working, all for better lives and a better world.

Yes, I know things seem mean, greedy, and soulless much of the time. Relentless news about wars and uprisings, elections and in-fighting, protests and unemployment have us screaming at each other rather than listening, finding solutions, and compromising. I understand why folks voice so much doubt about the future.

But we've heard it all before. Any student of history knows that people throughout the ages have thought the world is on the fast-track to Hell. It's nothing new. The only thing that is new is that despair and pessimism spews forth at the click of a keyboard or remote control. We're inundated with doom and gloom 24/7.

However, do not tell me there is no bright future in store for us, our children, grandchildren, and beyond. I will not hear of it.

Every generation does a lot of things right and a lot of things wrong. Every generation. It's no use pitting one against another. We're all in this together, across a continuum of time, relationship, and understanding. We can only do what every group of people has done since the dawn of time. Move things forward as best we can.

Perhaps we should think before we speak or type a snippy comment. Can we turn down the volume of hate? Stop siding with folks who only want to scream and stomp their feet, and start working toward listening and sorting things out together? None of us has the whole picture. None of us has all the answers.

The future is too important. It must be full of hope and promise. Just look at all these sweet new children. The future is gloriously brilliant. Now, live like it!

Why Santa Needs Elves

Because some - and often, most - assembly is required. I guess some elves are toy-makers, who craft their wares in 14,000 pieces that must be put together with allen wrenches (yuck!) and 35,002 screws, and some elves are the putter-togetherers, who have to take those 14,000 bits and assemble them into something recognizable that a kid would want to play with.

How did I come to this realization? Well, I watched as a couple of earthly elves fashioned an incredible train table out of a gazillion pieces and a 250-page instruction booklet. OK. I exaggerate, but not by much. Witness the process and results:

Elves, disguised as parents, employ their best carpentry skills in the race to have the train table ready by Christmas morn.

Hm. Does this thing look like the picture?

I need 2 E tracks and a B. Or is it 2 B tracks and an E?

Pay-off for the 2-hour assembly process: one thrilled little feller!

Here's hoping your Christmas involved both toy-makers and assemblers. Merry Christmas to all!

World's Rarest Christmas Ornaments

At the risk of having hordes of people turn up outside our door hoping to delight in these wonderful objects, I must announce that we are in possession of the world's rarest hand-made Christmas ornaments. Yes, it's true. And when you consider the cost of the care and feeding of the baubles' creator, well, they're probably the most expensive ornaments in the world, too.

Each and every ornament is hand-made (and I do mean, hand-made) by the one and only . . . GrandBoy. He has spent hours of precious pre-school time, under the careful guidance of his patient teachers, crafting an assortment of keepsake decorations that Hallmark could only hope to achieve. It has taken the laser-like concentration that only a 20-month-old can summon up to turn out his one-of-a-kind angel, stocking, wreath, tree, and reindeer.

No need for diamonds, gold, silver, or delicate blown glass. No. What's needed is an assortment of paper plates, construction paper, glue, glitter, finger paint, and, of course, little fingers. I never imagined hand-prints could be so versatile - everything from reindeer antlers to holly leaves.

Sorry, folks. He only made one of each. Rare, indeed. Priceless. Don't even bother calling us, Sotheby's. These will never hit the auction block.

We might consider tours next year. But they're all ours this Christmas.

Spoiled

Nobody likes a spoiled brat. Children should not get every toy and whimsy they fancy. I think we're all agreed on that. So for a grandparent it takes great restraint always, but especially at this time of year, to keep from picking up everything little (and big) that might bring even a moment's delight to the little tykes.

The truth is that if GrandBoy didn't get any new toys for the next two years, he'd have enough stuff to play with all the live-long day. But it's taking all of our willpower - and by "our" I'm including his mama and daddy - to resist picking up a few more little Thomas the Tank Engine train cars at the store or ordering everything that hums, honks, dings, and whistles online. The urge is overpowering. "Oh, he would love this!" and "I'd love to see his face when he opens that!" Is there a 12-step program for this?

The good news is that I haven't given in to these urges to purchase everything in sight for GrandBoy. Much. I chose one item off the gift wish list, found the absolute most perfect winter hat for him at the Grand Central Holiday Fair, and bought him a couple of books. Well, more than a couple of books; the stack seems to grow daily. (But books aren't toys, are they? Can you spoil a child with too many books? Help me out here, grandparents.)

Oh, yeah. And a friend was going to Hess to pick up a truck for her grandchildren. Did I want one for Liam? Of course, I did. I mean, the annual Hess truck is iconic, right? He needs one of those. Really. It lights up and makes noise and everything. Just made for my GrandBoy. So add that to the list.

I'm beginning to think that finding delightful things for our grandchildren has more to do with spoiling us than them. Is it completely selfish to want to see that first little flicker of surprise, then the smiles, and the play that follows when a gift is well-received? It's not the thing itself, it's the reaction and the way it's treated and used, that we wait for. Selfishly. OK. Maybe it is a little selfish. Maybe we're the spoiled brats, not the kids.

In the spirit of the season - and with every ounce of self-control that I can muster (thank goodness for limited discretionary spending) - I'm trying my best not to become a spoiled GrandMaryBrat. But that goal may be hard to achieve, since I do not need a reaction to a gift to spoil me. Every smile, string of jibber-jabber, plane-spotting, YoGabbaGabba dance, sleepy bed-head hug from GrandBoy spoils me beyond imagination. Perhaps I should just sit back and enjoy being spoiled for a while.

And maybe I'll save the Hess truck for GrandBoy's birthday.

Travelin' Man

GrandBoy loves anything that gets you from point A to point B. Whatever the mode of transportation, he is all over it. I've already mentioned his penchant for cars, but this passion extends to boats, airplanes, and - maybe most of all - choo-choo trains.

Over Thanksgiving, we spent a lot of time in two places: Ashford Park in Atlanta, by good fortune located below the flight path of planes flying in and out of Peachtree Dekalb Airport and right next to railroad tracks serving both MARTA and regular freight trains; and the Island of Sodor, home of Thomas the Tank Engine and his friends. Grandboy couldn't have been happier.

At the park he can hear a plane approaching long before those of us with older ears. He starts pointing to the sky and exclaiming, "Whoa!" Whoa-whoa-whoa! And sure enough, a couple of minutes later, an airplane crosses overhead. He's always pleased that he's able to locate it in the sky when it finally comes into sight.

Anything having to do with trains warrants the call-out, "Choo-choo!" He never tires of watching the freight trains pass by, however many cars are attached or however long it takes for the caboose to show up. Oddly enough, he can tell the difference between the excitement of a solid old freight train and the sleeker MARTA trains. MARTA doesn't get much of a reaction from GrandBoy.

The other choo-choo eliciting interest is Thomas. Thank goodness for Roku and instant Netflix, which let us watch episodes of the little Sodor train engine at will and kept GrandBoy entertained during the holiday hub-bub. Now, you may not believe this, but his mother and I heard him clearly say, "I want to watch Thomas," yesterday afternoon. We looked at each other - Did you hear what I heard? So I'm willing to testify that GrandBoy's first complete sentence was about the choo-choo Thomas.

Me thinks it will be a transportation-themed Christmas this year for GrandBoy. Now, let's all sing along:

They're two, they're four,
They're six, they're eight.
Shunting trucks and hauling freight.
Red and green and brown and blue
They're the really useful crew . . .

Happy Halloween!

GrandBoy seems happier as a FDNY fireman than he did last year as a monkey. Happy Halloween, everyone!

A Duck, a Cow, a Rembrandt

The time has come to clear the refrigerator door and stock up on magnets. I got my first GrandBoy artwork in the mail yesterday. From personal, parental experience I know that this is just the beginning of wonderful little creative endeavors too precious to throw away.

Several boxes of his mama's crayon, fingerpaint, potato print, and glitter+glue creations are taking up space in the family's basement. Yes, I tossed out a lot over the years, but some are just too precious to consign to the trash heap of history. I'm especially touched by anything with her early attempts at writing her name. Awwww. How can I throw those away?

Now it's time to employ my art curator skills again, this time for the Grand. So this first precious duck-cow picture, made with his own sweet little handprints, has pride of place - center of the fridge door. Fortunately, I have a full-size refridgerator.

Drivin' or Cryin'

GrandBoy wants to drive. Unfortunately, he's only 19 months old.

This is frustrating for him - frustrating to the point of tears and toddler-fits sometimes. His vocabulary is coming along, but he hasn't mastered the word for driving. Or cars. Or trucks. Or any vehicle that catches his eye. All of those things are lumped under one double-barrelled word: Doo-doose.

Doo-doose. Not sure of the spelling, but we all know what it means when he sees a big truck on the freeway or a tractor in a field. Doo-doose! And we really know what it means when we're trying to get him into or out of a car, or when he's upstairs pointing at the door leading to the garage, and he spits out: Doo-doose!

Now, doo-doose - er, driving - to Liam mostly means sitting in the driver's seat moving the steering wheel back and forth, or trying to push keys into the ignition, or pulling the visors and lighted mirrors up and down, pushing every single button on the dashboard, opening and closing each storage compartment. Yet, he never wants to pass up an opportunity to have full run of the front seat of a car. Perhaps it's because he's always tied down in his car seat well away from the front.

A few weeks ago we were at my nephew's wedding at a Florida resort, and poor GrandBoy lost it every time he saw a golf cart. And there were lots of golf carts. Last weekend we went apple-picking, and while he enjoyed that adventure, GrandBoy was completely beside himself when he got to sit in the driver's seat of a big blue tractor.

We figure he's got a bright future as a race-car driver. Or a trucker. Or a farmer. Long may he doo-doose!

The Red Balloon

GrandBoy loves balloons. No. "Love" is the wrong word. GrandBoy covets balloons. Balloons in grocery stores or restaurants or outside a place of business or in Goodnight, Moon. He wants every balloon he sees. Now, as his mama points out, once he gets a balloon, there's not much he can do with it, at least not at 19 months old. But if there's a balloon in sight, he wants it to be his.

Yesterday after an active morning in Atlanta's Winn Park - where we repeatedly tested all five slides (except for the high twisty one), GrandBoy and GrandMary dropped into our local Chick-Fil-A for a well-deserved lunch. The minute we opened the doors, I knew we were in trouble. Large shiny mylar balloons decorated the counter area, and GrandBoy's eye honed right in on 'em.

"Baaa-oooon! Baaaaa-ooon!"

Oh. Dear. I placed our order through much pointing and "baaa-ooon"-ing. As we entered the dining area, I noticed lots of red and white balloons dotting the tables and booths filled with children. Fortunately, this story has a happy ending. No sooner had we settled into our booth than a kind employee came by with a fistful of balloons. Yea! We chose a red one. I tied it to GrandBoy's buttonhole so that it wouldn't fly away.

Like his mother, I figured he just wanted to possess it and would soon let it hover over his head while he ate. But low and behold!, after spending a couple of minutes bopping it around, he grabbed it with both hands and put his face right up to it. He turned left and right, up and down, and his perplexed look changed to a little half-grin. He was looking at the world through a red balloon.

Seeing him with the balloon reminded me of that wonderful film The Red Balloon, which I dearly loved as a child and that his mama loved when she was little. It's still a favorite of mine. GrandBoy's too young for the post-war Paris fable of a little boy and his wonderfully faithful red balloon, but I hope when he's older he'll find a place in his heart for it. It is the ultimate boy-and-his-balloon story.

GrandBoy's red balloon lost its oomph by late evening, and interest in it was lost, as well. Still, maybe some day he'll find more uses for his balloons.

Like having a hundred of them carry him right over Paris!

Little Golden Memories

When I was Grandboy's age (way back when entertainment meant blocks, Easter egg hunts, and Howdy Doody - stop yawning!), the kiddie reading material of choice in our house was a stack of favorite Little Golden Books. They were inexpensive, colorful, and the perfect size for little hands. I was too young to read, of course, but my daddy loved reading those books to us, and we loved listening. It wasn't just the stories that made an impact; it was the illustrations, as well.

I don't remember all the stories, but there are four stand-outs that stick with me all these years later.

The first was officially called The Five Little Firemen, but we called it The Five Little Firemen and the Jolly Fat Cook.  I always associate this story with my brother David, for some reason. I think he particularly liked this story of the brave little firemen rescuing the cook when the house caught fire. And all cooks from that time forward were referred to as "jolly fat cooks" in our family.

Next on our Little Golden Books hit parade is Noises and Mr. Flibberty Jib. Poor Mr. Flibberty Jib. He had all sorts of noises pounding through his head, rumbles and rattles and squeaks. Yes, the sounds of the modern world were driving him crazy. He tried everything to get rid of his noise-headaches. Spoiler alert: the cure was roast beef. Not a day goes by that I don't think about the rumbles in my head. And crave roast beef to cure 'em.

Little Golden Books introduced me to Clement Moore's The Night Before Christmas. The illustrations in the original Golden Books version are what dance in my head whenever I read or hear the poem to this day. Santa Claus to me is the Little Golden Books Santa. Whenever I see the pictures, I get the feeling I'm a very tiny child.

The last is more memorable for one of its illustrations. The Little Golden Books version of Little Red Riding Hood had a full page picture - full page! - of the big bad wolf in grandmother's bed and night-cap. His eyes were squinched up and his big nose was tucked under the coverlet. And you just knew he'd done something awful. While Little Me loved the story, Daddy would have to quickly turn over the wolf page because it was too, too scary. {shiver} Oooh. the big bad wolf!

It's funny that these little books, with their wonderful stories and memorable illustrations, have stuck with me throughout my life. I love children's books - the big glossy kind with fabulous pictures, all very clever and colorful. But those dime store-bought Little Golden Books still live in this little girl's heart.

But, please, turn past that wolf-in-grandma's-bed page quickly!

Celebrating 18 months!

How fast they grow! Happy 18-month birthday, GrandBoy!

The Grand Role

What is the role of a grandparent? I suspect it depends on whether you're the grandparent, the parent, or the grandchild. One of the great things about being a grandparent is that you carry with you all three perspectives, since you're the only one of the three to have experienced each life-stage. But sometimes it's hard to reel in all the years to see through the eyes of the child or parent you were. 

From my lofty GrandMary perch and taking into account little Mary and mama Mary, here are my top three roles of a grandparent:

• Unconditional love. A grandparent is free to just love away on the grandbabies, usually without the angst of setting the rules, saving for college, or getting them dressed for school every day. (I know some grands do have to worry about these things.) Unconditional love doesn't mean "no limits" and letting the little darlings get away with murder. Abide by the rules of the parents and of society, and the rest is just lots of fresh cream on strawberries. Open heart and open arms - that's a grandparent's primary role.

• Fun-loving storyteller. A grandparent is a connector from the present to the past. You can tell the stories about family, friends, and events that help anchor a child's roots. You can give grandchildren a glimpse of what their parents were like as children (so start storing up those funny, embarrassing tales). You know songs, rhymes, tall-tales that only someone in your generation would know, so share them. But remember that "fun-loving" is the modifier here. Otherwise, you'll become a raging bore. You have to be the one with a ready laugh, a conspiratorial wink, and the ability to pull a funny face throughout everything.
• Parental support. A grandparent is not the grandchild's parent. The parents make the rules, and your role is wholehearted support, at least when engaging with the grandchildren. If you feel the need to confront parents about something you disagree with, well that's up to you. It might work, it might not. But never, never undermine the parent in front of their children or intentionally break their rules.

I do realize that many grandparents are the primary caregivers for their grandchildren. But I believe that even with increased authority that love, fun, storytelling, and support provide the foundation of the "grand" role.

What do you think are the top three roles of a grandparent?

The Frustrations of a Bilingual Toddler

Toddler tantrums are legendary, and sometimes all you can do is deep-breathing exercises or plug your ears with your iPod. But look at it from a toddler-view. It must be incredibly frustrating to understand two languages (grown up English and toddler-speak) but only be able to communicate in one (toddler-speak).

I do think they get - or almost get - whatever's being said to them, and I think they understand what you need or expect to hear in return. Problem is, their language skills haven't caught up to their understanding.

So when you ask a question, a toddler knows what answer to give. It just comes out in a Tarzan-like grunt or a string of gibberish. They try to help us along by pointing or gesturing, but we don't speak their language. As adults, we have to make logical (or sometimes, wild) guesses as to what our sweet toddlers are trying to say. Frustration all around and a perfect storm for impending tantrums - and not just on the part of the toddler.

Yes, what we've got here, in the words of Strother Martin in Cool Hand Luke, is a failure to communicate.

Of course, lack of ability to form clear words isn't the only frustration a tiny kid faces. Emerging, basic fine motor skills and coordination lets That fork or spoon doesn't quiet behave they way it should and deliver food into the mouth, for example. Darn! Yeah, I think I'd throw a tantrum or two (and I'm sure I did).

Things will get better. The pointing grunts will lead to "milk, please" or "I'm hot." Blocks will stack and forks will get food right into the mouth. But until then, sigh, we'll all just have to communicate the best way we can.

I'm just waiting to hear those three magical syllables: GrandMary.

Hooray for Daddies!

What better way to celebrate Father's Day than a baseball game? GrandBoy took in his first big league game today at Turner Field in Atlanta, where the Atlanta Braves beat the Texas Rangers. Yahoo! His mama, Grandpa George, and Grandma Lois tagged along with the father-son duo.

This GrandMary's thankful that GrandBoy has such a great daddy. And like all the generations of mamas supporting him, he has generations of good daddies doing the same. Daddies who have worked hard and loved their families. Daddies who have taught important life lessons, as well as the not-so-important but fun lessons.

Thank you to the long family line of good men who have shown the true meaning of fatherhood. What a precious gift!

Looks Like Toddler Spirit

Parents are never quite prepared for the transition from baby to toddler. Even a fast crawler can't hold a candle to a toddler determined to get from point A to point B. I've never quite understood how those tiny folks with newly-acquired (albeit shaky) balance can outrun full-grown marathon-running adults, but those little stinkers will leave the grown-ups in the dust every time.

Yes, they fall and trip and stumble once in a while, but their ability to maneuver around furniture, corners, up/down stairs, and bigger, more powerful humans is a wonder to behold. Which is amazing, since the average toddler looks a little lead-footed, walking with the un-syncopated rhythm of Frankenstein's monster.

But, beware!

That off-balance movement is a ruse. A cover-up. A little toddler trick. Those sly little devils walk unsteadily to lull you into a false sense of security. First chance they get, it's off to the races. Just try to catch them. This GrandMary's convinced that toddlers are two parts jack rabbit, one part Weeble.

So, to all toddler-chasing parents (and grandparents, babysitters, protectors of public safety) out there, good luck. There's no training for the toddler race. The little tykes have found their legs, and they mean to use them. All the time. Usually when you're the most tired and/or not paying attention.

But look on the bright side. Just think of the gym fees you'll save!

The Joys of Summer Reading

One of my great growing up memories is throwing myself headlong into any summer reading program that came along. I usually had at least two going during the hot days of June, July, and August - one from the local public library and one from my church library. These programs weren't the mandatory summer reading lists required these days by every grade from kindergarten through high school. Nope. These were completely optional.

I loved having a new crisp, clean form with sections for Fiction, Biographies, Non-Fiction, and whatever categories some dear librarian wanted to toss my way. Oooh, the feeling of getting to carefully write in a finished book and its author - well, it gives me a thrill even today. Yes. I am a book-nerd, and obviously always have been.

Then when Daughter was 4 or 5 years old, we'd grab our library cards and participate in whatever summer programs the establishment had to offer. It was so much fun introducing her to joy of selecting her own books and finding a quiet time amidst summer activities to crack open a whole new world. It was a great daily habit that I hope she loved as much as I did.

Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books, Sydney Taylor's All of a Kind Family, and Edward Eager's Half Magic were some of our favorites. Yes, I may have had a hand in guiding her to the Ingalls family, but the others she found on her own. It was wonderful learning about Taylor's Lower East Side Jewish family or figuring out the right way to make a half-magic wish. Great stuff after a day's work and heat!

GrandBoy's still on board books so he's a little young for a library summer reading program. But just think how much fun it will be to let him choose a book - at a library, bookstore, Kindle or tablet store, or whatever new book delivery option will be available in 2-3 years - and share it with him! What new worlds and people will we meet?

Do you have a favorite summertime reading memory?

Just Don't Call Me Granny

The New York Times had an article the other day about trends in grandparent names. Of course there was a faint "Baby Boomers don't want to get old" theme running through it, though I know many a Greatest Generation/Silent Generation woman who has opted for Nana or Gigi or Mimi, not Granny or MeeMaw. I posted about my own choice of grandparent name before Liam was born and why GrandMary was chosen.

Seems the likes of Blythe Danner and Goldie Hawn - neither of whom are Baby Boomers, by the way - are opting for monikers like Lalo and GlamMa (ha!) rather than Grandma or Grandmother. In short, we love the experience, just not the cultural baggage of the title. Or so the article says. I'm not sure I agree, though I can't think of any grandmothers in my age group that go by any of the more old fashioned terms.

The only name I never considered for myself was Granny. I mean, that one really does sound old. Yet, that was what my own mother chose for her grandmother name. My own grandmothers were called "Mama" (I think we called her that because that's what our mothers called her) and "Grandmother." Neither of those would've worked for me, either.

Of course, lots of times the grandchildren work out a name (as in the case of Danner's Lalo), and that's what sticks. It'll be interesting to see how GrandBoy handles the pronunciation of GrandMary. He's in control at this point. It may come out "Ginga" or "Gamry." We'll just have to wait and see.

So. Any Grannies left out there? Or are we headed to Lalo-land?

To GrandBoy on Mother's Day

Darling Boy,

Today is Mother's Day. It's your second chance to celebrate that wonderful woman you call (or are trying as hard as a 1-yr-old can to call) "Mama." She is the one who made me a mother. She loves you beyond all reason, as I love her.

You come from a long line of strong, loving mamas. You should feel their love coming down to you through the generations. You don't just have one mama's love in you, but centuries of love from all the mothers, grandmothers, and on back through all the "greats" of the Gresham/Bartow/Frazier/Brennan and Flores/Leyva/Richeson clans.

All that strength and love, mixed with the same strength and love from all the daddies, helps make you the wonderful little feller you are. You are one lucky little guy!

So spend the day hugging and kissing your mama. Nap when you sense she needs a break. Let her know how very special she is and how glad you are that you won the mother-lottery.

I love you more than words can tell. You are the baby of my baby. Give her a hug and kiss for me. Happy Mother's Day, Liam!

Love,
GrandMary

A Book-Lovin' GrandMary's Dream Job

A few weeks ago I took advantage of a Dealist offer to purchase $50 worth of children's books for $25. Now, what parent or grandparent would pass up a deal like that, eh? I did what any self-respecting granny would do: I jumped at the chance to wander through selections of books and music to pick out just the right things for GrandBoy. In the process, I discovered Little One Books.

This wonderful online shop was started by and is cared for a couple of grandparents who got the idea for Little One Books after trying to find just the right bedtime music for their young granddaughter. Overwhelmed by all the materials available, they came upon the notion of helping folks make delightful, informed choices as a way to cut through the jungle of books and music trying to get our children's attention.

According to their website:

We specialize in quality books, music, and video, for children birth through age five, and have personally reviewed and selected each and every item in our store. You'll find detailed information on why we prefer a particular product in our "Why We Chose" section of each product page.

At Little One Books, we match each product to what we believe is the youngest appropriate age group. However, our carefully selected items can and will be used for many years to come. As children develop they often find pleasure in revisiting illustrations from old favorites, and eventually learning to read them on their own.

You can shop by age or by product on the website. Since Liam still loves to chew on books (literally, not thoughtfully) and tear paper, I opted to search by age. One-year-olds still need board books for those very reasons, so that section of the site offers a marvelous variety, complete with synopsis and "Why We Chose This Book." You can also search age-appropriate music and videos. Or chose one of the "bundles."

Of course, no matter how easy Little One Books organizes and informs, I still had to choose the books and music I wanted. Ah, one of life's most pleasant dilemmas! But once I made my selections, ordering was easy and delivery to GrandBoy prompt. I even received a hand-written note from Joan on the order summary that came in the mail.

Grandparents running a children's bookstore - what a dream job! This GrandMary's envious. But I'm so glad I discovered Little One Books. And I bet GrandBoy will be glad I did, too.

Car-seat Kerfuffel

Just what parents need. Confusion and guilt. The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) laid a load on parents of 1-2 year olds the other day with its much-reported recommendation that all children up to two years of age use a rear-facing car seat. Now, most parents look forward to the day they can let their little darlings face forward in the car. It's been the rule of thumb for years that the magic turn-around time was at one year/20 lbs. Then the bombshell.

Parents of toddlers are now in frenzy, trying to sort out the facts and weigh them against the real-life disadvantages of a rear-facing 1-2 year old. All the headlines screamed that rear-facing car seats are 75% safer than front-facing. But the reports never gave real numbers - such as the number of child  fatalities/year (around 1350), number of fatalities in which the children were in no child seat/restraint at all (more than half), or any other statistics that would bring that safety comparison into focus.  Turns out that 75% of actual fatalities for rear- vs. front-facing is a difference of a few 100ths of a percentage points.

I searched out information from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and the Centers for Disease Control, regarding facts about highway safety for children. I haven't found any real numbers for fatalities/injuries that compare rear-facing/front-facing, tossing out the number involving children who weren't in car seats at all, but would love to see them if available. One interesting fact I uncovered in the NHTSA paper (go to section III) was that the number of chest injuries is much higher for rear-facing than front-facing. Wonder why AAP didn't give that information?

My point is that the AAP should have rolled out their recommendations with real statistics, including the pros and cons of both seat positions. Now parents of toddlers are trying to determine whether to turn their sweeties back around from front to back, enduring wailing, lack of eye contact, scrunched up legs, car sickness, etc. - adding to driver distraction and frayed nerves all around - or leave 'em be and risk the tsk-tsking of smug parents who keep their children rear-facing until they're 12.

I don't care of what folks in Sweden do, and I don't want to hear "Scrunched legs and crying is better than a broken neck." (Better decide between a broken neck and fatal chest injuries, dear.) Riding in cars is dangerous. Period.  New child safety seats are sturdy, stable, strapped-in pieces of design and manufacturing, whether they face forward or backward. Properly installed, they're about as safe as anything can possibly be in a car.

This GrandMary advises doing what works for you and your child. If your kid doesn't mind facing the rear, fine. But most toddlers want to have a better view, watch mama and daddy, move forward, have some leg room. A happy toddler means a more focused driver. Weigh your options and go with your gut.

And believe me, this will seem a piddly tempest in a teapot compared to handing over the car keys to that toddler when he or she reaches 16. Now, that's something to fear!

Found: Nemo

GrandBoy loves the movie Finding Nemo. This friendship started last summer on the family road trip to Connecticut when he was only 4 months old, and the little fish continues to mesmerize our year-old little guy. So Liam's ma and pa wondered how he'd react to seeing tanks and tanks of real fish.

Yes, a trip to the Georgia Aquarium was in order.

Good decision. Not only does the world's largest aquarium fulfill a Nemo-lover's wildest dreams, but it is extremely toddler-friendly. And as any parent and grandparent knows, finding someplace other than McDonald's that welcomes sheer toddler-delight is tough. Well, GrandBoy got as up close and personal with the underwater creatures as possible without donning scuba gear, and his delight clearly shows.

Where do you take your active little one that allows for active feet and imaginations without an infusion of calories? Certainly backyards and parks and zoos, but what about other local "attractions" and museums? This GrandMary would love to know about those places, whatever part of the country/world they're in. Let's help each other keep our newly active human beings excited about what the world has to offer.

We want to make sure that every child finds his or her very own Nemo.

He's Walking!

After a couple of months of two- and three-step trials, GrandBoy has decided that there may be some advantage to walking upright instead of speedily crawling around. I suspect he'll be just a blur for the next few years. Superman, indeed.

Congratulations, Liam! Not only do you have opposable thumbs, you can walk upright.

A year ago today . . .

It's GrandBoy's first birthday! This time last year we were at the hospital - two of us doing all the work (one pushing for all she was worth, the other fighting his way out), Dad was counting and coaching, and GrandMary was on photo/video and whatever-else-was-needed duty. So now we celebrate one whole year.

A whole houseful of people partied with Liam yesterday - family, little friends, big friends - and it was a fun, splendiferous event. He held up well, stayed in good spirits, and only had to be hosed off once (after the destruction of the birthday cake).

It's been a wonderful year. This sweet little boy has blessed our lives beyond measure. As his GrandMary I wish him years of health, happiness, friendships, learning, faith, and love.

Happy Birthday, dear Liam! We love watching you grow!

King of Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day 2011!