People keep asking…

Not quite two months ago we became grandparents again and people keep asking me if it’s different this time.

No.

That beautiful baby does what all babies do: eats, sleeps, and dirties diapers. Nothing out of the ordinary really, at least not yet.

So why do people keep asking if this time is different? Because this time we have added a baby girl to our family and as a mother of boys, I’m hoping this little sweetheart will be at least a little bit of a girly girl and I will finally be able to do some girly things with her.

I know. I wrote that and I thought somebody is going to be all, “Hey it’s 2016! She doesn’t have to be bound by traditional gender roles and definitions.”

I know that AND I’m fine with that. If Tiny G wants to drive bulldozers in the sandbox instead of baking cookies, I’m good with that. Seriously, as a mother of boys and grandmother to grandsons, I know how to do sandboxes and lego and skip rocks and race HotWheels. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t also want to have tea parties and play dress up and bake cookies.

I was a bit of a girly girl. I loved to bake, do crafts, heck, I even liked ironing clothes. In fact, the other day I think my older brother used the word ‘prissy’ to describe me. I was a ‘hands in your lap, sit yourself upright, face shiny clean, don’t misbehave’ kind of girl. I didn’t like being outside and I hated being dirty. While my sister was in the yard digging a hole to China with the garden hoe, I was inside baking cookies for Dad’s lunch. I didn’t bother to take Home Ec in school because my training, which I gleefully immersed myself in, was complete by the time I was 12.

Even though I had brothers, and a little sister who preferred helping Dad grease the equipment to learning how to embroider, being blessed with two sons was an eye-opener. Our oldest son was a typical boy who wanted nothing more than to be outside playing in the mud, feeding cows, and riding in the tractor. Thank goodness he was blessed with grandparents who had the time and desire to include him in daily farm chores. Our youngest son was anything but typical, but his need to always be on the move investigating and experiencing the world in a very physical way was a revelation too.

There are some things in this world that people will try to tell you about, they will try to explain so you understand. Then there are others that you just have to experience for yourself because even if someone tried to tell you, you wouldn’t believe them anyway.

The boys would have been about 5 and 3 the day the Grossest Thing in the World happened. It was laundry day, which really when you have small children is almost every day. I went to move the load from the washer to the dryer, opened the washer lid, and was hit by the nastiest smell coming from the freshly washed clothes. We were using water from a dugout and I just figured we had gotten a shot of bad water so I ran the load through again. Same result. One more time with a little extra soap…and…no luck, same smell. Knowing that something was up, I started pulling out clothes and looking for another source for that revolting smell. Not a thing to be found…until I started going through pockets.

I will never be able to adequately express in words the horror and revulsion I felt when I pulled from our youngest son’s coat pocket the bloated, decomposing, soggy corpse of a mouse. Little Mr. Tactile had probably found it in the barn, left behind by one of the cats, loved the feel of the silky fur, and tucked it in his pocket. I have no idea how long he had been packing that thing around.

No one tells you about things like that when you’re at a baby shower for your son. They just smile at you, with what I now know is a secret knowing Mona Lisa smile. A smile that says, “Just wait. You’re in for a wild ride.”

But parenting is a wild ride period. I don’t think it makes a difference if you have sons or daughters. Every day seems to bring some new delight or challenge. No two days are the same and when you are in the busy days of raising little children, you never think you’re going to get through, but you do.

So will things be different with Tiny G? Probably, but only because she is her own person and while I hope to be able to share my love of baking and craft-making with her, I don’t imagine our time together will be any different than the time I spend with her brothers. Because at Grandma’s house, we do whatever they want to do. I have the time and inclination to indulge their imaginations and wishes. Right now, that means building lego with J and talking long walks in the woods with Little B. When Tiny G is old enough to come to our house on her own, we will do whatever her little heart desires.

Because that, my friends, is the joy of grand-parenting.

Laundry and finding nasties in pockets is the joy of mothering.

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