Grandma's Pride

Have you ever noticed that there is no one more proud of a child's abilities or accomplishment's than a grandmother? I work with several women who have multiple grandchildren, and the other day one was telling us a story about taking her daughter and family to a play.

After the play they went to a restaurant, and the grandchild had to draw grandma a picture. She only had a napkin, she she drew it on the napkin and signed the back of it. This woman couldn't be more pleased. She taped it up in front of her desk, after showing all of us of course.

Reminds me of when the children came home from school with art projects and we would tape them up on the fridge, or the bulletin board so that everyone could see how wonderful they did. I don't think I was ever that impressed with my children's efforts (I know, I'm really a terrible mother) until my youngest came home with a painting he'd done of Van Gogh's sunflowers. I was so excited! I bragged about it to the whole family. I wanted to have it framed, actually. I thought he'd done an amazing job. He has done a couple of other pieces since then, but only for school, and has shown no interest at home.

It's driving me crazy. I tried to get him to do something for the fair this year, but he just wanted to make something out of Legos.

Just think of what this world would be like if there weren't mother's and grandmother's out there to encourage the artistic talents of children? If it were up to father's, they'd say: "oh, that's nice, son." and that would be the end of it. The son would stick it on the fridge with a magnet, and then nothing more would ever be said. (of course, without moms and grandmothers, how would there be a child in the first place??? hmmmm)

It's a good thing we are proud of our children and their efforts. Where would the next master come from? He would be another tortured and bitter individual who was totally mixed up and took his own life...oh, I guess that's already happened. That's why I think it's wonderful that parents and grandparents are vocal in their praise of the efforts of the young. Perhaps we'll avoid more of this tragic artistic story.

So...how many pictures do you have on your fridge?


Return to the Neighborhood

18 years ago...

18 years ago yesterday I was bringing a triangular shaped head into the world. My oldest son left skid marks, according to my doctor. We were playing cards and watching Mash when things got into full swing and he was born.

My oldest son is a sweetheart. He's tender hearted, generally kind, and as handsome as a mother could wish. He's not quite the paragon of goodness and faith that I'd like, but he's good, and he tries.

All day I kept picturing a video we took of him when he was little and my husband was going through body parts with him, pointing them out and having him tell what they were. It was the cutest thing you ever saw, and my son was a doll. I try to keep from thinking that a year from now he will be preparing to go on a mission.

He spent his bday at Drill -- coming home in time for dinner and cake and ice cream with grandma and grandpa. sigh. He's growing up and I can't do anything about it. It's enough to make you want to invest in Klennex...

The photo is from last years bday...sigh. He looks even older now. Amazing what a year can do.