In my prime of parenting many small children,
rarely did a sight or sound escape me.
I could tell from the creak of a hinge,
even if my I was blow drying my hair,
which cupboard the kids were getting into.
I could tell from the shake of a box,
even if I was vaccuming the carpet,
if they were eating cereal or crackers.
I could tell by the crinkle of packaging,
even with my head stuck in the dryer,
what they were umwrapping to eat.
I could tell the difference between teasing slaps and fighting slaps.
I could tell the difference between a clean room,
and a “I shoved everything in the closet” room.
I could hide candy and presents so well,
I couldn’t find them even when I wanted to find them.
Together, Scott and I were an Army of Two.
The kids sat when we told them to sit,
they ate what we told them to eat,
they slept when we told them to sleep.
We were good.
In our day.
During the last visit with the grandkids,
we had to admit defeat.
We’ve Lost Our Touch.
I didn’t even know a chapstick was anywhere in sight.
I have failed as a Gramma.
I have a precious memory of my Grandma Geneva
teaching me how to put on lipstick.
She carefully edged my top lip with pink,
then taught me to smoosh my lips together to spread it to the lower lip.
I thought everyone did it that way.
Gramma was just saving money.
Most women apply lipstick to their top and bottom lips.
Brookelyn must know the Depression is over.
She used all the lipbalm she wanted,
without lessons from Gramma.
I didn’t know the fingernail polish was left at the eye-level
of a 3 year old Do-It-Yourself Diva.
She came walking into the living room with her hands folded
in front of her, as if she was praying.
Grandpa thought he was smart enough to figure this one out.
“Whatcha’ got, Brookelyn?”
She shrugged with the practiced indifference of a teenager.
“Let Grandpa see.”
He was expecting to see something IN her hands,
not all OVER her hands.
We used to have this cool rule about playing with one toy,
then putting it away before you took out another.
I promise it has been clean a few times inbetween.
When Grandpa sat on a few toys, he thought about reviving that rule.
We never used to allow toys in any rooms but the family room
and the kids’ bedrooms.
Now, every room is a play room.
They dared to leave BOTH the kids with Grandpa and Gramma one night.
At bedtime, Grandpa got the bottles ready.
I said, “Um, Scott, the kids don’t drink out of bottles anymore.
They actually haven’t for a long time.”
His response, “They do when Grandpa babysits!”
Happy grandchildren getting bedtime milk.
We were trying to get both kids in their pj’s and sitting on the couch quietly.
We’d get one settled, then lose the other one.
We’d find the missing one, then lose the settled one.
Yea, we’ve really have lost our touch,
but found a crown.
“Children’s children are the crown of old men, “
We’ve been crowned and our hearts’ desire
is to cast these crowns at the feet of the Lord Jesus
when we stand before His Holy presence in Heaven.