Danmancle's Blog

For most of this year the Grandma Grandpa train (blog #44) had been churning up quite the miles traveling from one grandkid destination to another. We get a call, or make a call and zoom – the train is in motion – destination …hug city. A few weeks ago the train took a break from the motion mode and morphed into the Grandma Grandpa camp to allow a couple grandkids to take turns staying for a prolonged time at the “station”. Hopefully as each of the 5 grandchildren get older, the “camp” schedule will get fuller.

“Piece of cake – right?” Get the specific child’s parental rule book, prepare a game plan including games, acceptable tv shows & movies (screen time, as the parents call it), approved snacks, lists of places to go, medical records, favorite ice creams, allergy lists, medical power of attorney signatures etc… Not quite the same as when I was taken to my grandparents home. I was usually dropped off from a moving car with a note pinned to my shirt as to when they might be back! Actually our grandchildren’s parents (our kids) mostly just ask us to maintain some semblance of parental rule and try and keep a normal bed time routine (for their children – not for us). Don’t do anything crazy and just spoil them a bit. We can do that!

The past few years have been generically easy – change a diaper or two or twelve, play, feed, listen to them trying to talk and toddle around, gradually moving from baby to toddler to preschool with the intervening developing skills including potty training, using a sentence or two, and eating regular foods etc. We were used to hearing an occasional “no” and “why” and thinking how cute they are!

Something has changed!! Now they are talking (very fast) and reading (even in other languages), and doing math and they can read lips, and have super power hearing and run faster than me.

They are like little aliens – they know computers and tv remotes, – they can show me how to find a program in Netflix!, and they know how to work the stereo and Ipads and Iphones. Who are these children’s parents? I don’t know who they are – are we really related?

This past GG camp with our 7 year old (she was 1 week from being 7 so it counts) she beat me at scrabble, and chess and Putt Putt for heavens sake and just turned 7. Instead of “no” and “why” – it’s “I know, But why?” She asked me how the pulley systems work in the grandfather clock in the living room. Nobody knows that – you just pull the chains and the clock tells time. It used to be that I could just make up something that sounded cool and they would just toddle away – my job was done. But not now! Holy Moly. I go to my old stand by, tried and true answer – “go ask grandma”. Didn’t work – she was way ahead of me. “I already asked her and she said that was your area” she said with a furrowed brow – “so how does it work Grandpa?”

And how do they learn math so young? Suddenly I am being given math quizzes. “Grandpa what is 147 – 23 x 4?” (not just her, but our 4 year old grandson does the same thing). I get cold sweats and flashbacks to the SAT and GRE exams when they do this (if a polar bear is traveling East at 25 mph and the train was going South with 27 passengers with 12 apples…) Who is this kid? She doesn’t want the answer – she Knows the answer- she is testing me. They are all just like their mothers!

And her hearing is like a super power radar. I can be 3 rooms away whispering to Grandma and s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g out a special place to take our “camper” and 3 seconds later she is standing between us using her magical powers and saying “so what was it you were discussing about Chuck E Cheese? Are we going now?” She swore she never played Putt Putt before in her little life. Ha – now Grandpa can show HER how to do something. Good grief, she had a hole in one on the second hole and proceeded to keep score in her head the whole match. She would pick up her ball from each hole and leave mine laying there. She would walk away saying “your ball is in the hole Grandpa” . Gamesmanship – from a second grader. It was like I was back in junior high only now I am being schooled by a little princess.

Even a trip to the Library was daunting. I was going to show her how smart I am to be able to find the books she wanted (duh – I would just ask the lady at the counter). “No need Grandpa”. She proceeded to a computer, sat down, looked up her books of choice and told me if they were currently in stock and in which aisle we would find them. I’m surprised she didn’t just drive to the library herself and pick up the books. Oh wait , they probably do driver training in 3^rd grade.

We have had 2 “campers” stay at GG camp and we have loved every second of it. I assume the “campers” have had a ball and will convince the parents to let them come back. In the meantime the GG train is already back in motion. Currently it has 3 scheduled stops in 3 states and there are still 3 months left on this years train schedule. One thing we do know – the station will be full at Christmas when all the campers and their parents will be “home” for Christmas. I still have time to study my math.

Having the same golf buddies for the past 30 years (see blog # 6 Golf buddies) makes a clear statement – I apparently don’t make new friends! But it does mean that we have a clear understanding of each other. We share our lives on the course and off-to the extent that we will help each other when needed and annoy each other at will. I know I can insult and harass both Ron and Ken whenever called for without fear of reciprocation. I do have to be careful of my boundaries though since I have the most notorious as well as humorous golf “incidents” that could be used against me and will most assuredly be used by them at my memorial service. The thought of being humiliated while not being able to defend myself will be the threat they will hold over me forever.

Recently Ron and I had been discussing our current medical situations. He related to me that as a precursor to his heart exam he needed an MRI. To wit I explained to him that I could save him time and effort since I already knew that he didn’t have a heart. And an MRI would be to no avail. Being the sincere smartass that he is he responded in kind to remind me that when I required a brain MRI last year he told me it was a waste since they would not find a brain. Touche. They did say in my MRI summary that “my orbs were unremarkable.” Why would they look at my orbs when checking my brain?

Together Ron and I realized that since I have no brain and he has no heart, we were two thirds away from the yellow brick road. All we needed was a cowardly lion and we could journey to see the wizard! We deduced that our other golf buddy Ken does have a heart and he does have a brain, but, since he needs his wife’s permission to use them, he qualifies. (Sorry Ken, literary license). We both knew that if Ken has an MRI they would find that he doesn’t have a clue. (I love ya man).

When we started playing golf together we had children to supervise and visions of greatness. Now we have grandchildren to supervise us and our vision is quite different. Life is changing. We are retired. We are getting older. We don’t hit the ball as far or as straight as we used to but we still laugh more on the tee than we concentrate on our form. Ron swears at the end of the last hole that he will never play golf again. Ken explains his use of the unplayable lie “technique”, and I whine about not playing enough to be effective. But we all know we will play together again as soon as possible and love it.

Probably when we finally walk the yellow brick road and get to see the wizard, the first thing we will ask him is if he has a tee time available and can we hit from the gold tees? Ken will insist he can hit from the blues, so as always we will play from the whites. We know each other too well. Maybe we can get a flying monkey to caddie, and Dorothy can drive the beverage cart. The Emerald City will never be the same.

My wife has been sleeping around…. – Whoa, that got your attention didn’t it? But let me finish the sentence.. My wife has been sleeping around…The House!

Somehow, a couple months ago, she hurt something in her hip/leg/butt?? Like a strained muscle. The doctor said it was either from something she did at yoga or in bed. (whoa again!) I had nothing to do with either scenario. Sadly, she couldn’t get out of bed without severe pain and the need for a crutch or a cane or a helping hand. A helping hand meant I had to get out of bed, so I found a pair of crutches.

She has been in physical therapy ever since the Dr appointment. The PT thinks she has had a lifelong habit of sleeping incorrectly. How’s that for a diagnosis? My wife told him that, well, she has been sleeping with a big Lump in her bed for about 18 years if that made a difference -haha. Sleeping fine for xx years and now suddenly it’s incorrect? So now she has been told she has to sleep in a completely different position and/or with a different firmness of mattress. Thus the “sleeping around the house”.

We have 4 good sized bedrooms upstairs, all with queen size beds plus two sofas downstairs, one with a pull out queen size mattress. Suddenly, the search was on for the perfect night’s sleep. Goldilocks was on a mission to find the proper rest without pain. I told her the simple solution to solving the pain issue when she got out of bed was to just stay in bed – no worries! Obviously I haven’t gotten my med school diploma in the mail yet. Since she has to do all kinds of “maneuvering” to get the right position, and also do crazy leg exercises upon waking up in the bed, to help ease the pain, it seemed better for her (and me) to have her take the journey on her own.

It has been a hoot (other than the pain). She will start in one bed, move to another, and then forget which bed she was in when going to the bathroom in the night. Sometimes she ventures back to ground zero, and other times the search continues. At least our daughters have all grown and moved on so she has all manner of room choices. Hopefully all will be resolved before we have any overnight guests. That would make for interesting breakfast conversations.

In the process we are discovering which of the 4 beds have the firmer mattress. It’s like we are grading them all on firmness now. The mattress people, coming up with their sales gimmick of telling consumers to change mattresses every 8 years, have not helped. I don’t know how old each bed is! I think we tore off the tags – so now the mattress police will come and haul us off to jail. I’m sure the jail mattresses won’t have tags.

Each new bed looks like a war zone in the morning. Moving and wiggling and changing position. It would be like being a right handed person and you are told to now use your left hand! We develop sleeping habits – on stomach, or on side or on back – and suddenly to try and do the opposite – not a fun move. Besides once you are asleep – how do you prevent your body from going back to its happy place? Well, the PT told my wife to stick pillows between her legs, put large pillows on one side so she can’t move her leg into the wrong position and put another pillow in her arms to keep from moving. We now have like 8 pillows in each bed. Every night is a pillow fight – and that’s by myself.

The pain is starting to become less of a problem now – but Goldilocks continues to rotate beds as part of the process. However, now we can never move to a one bedroom house! But I did make porridge for breakfast this morning.

“…and they lived happily ever after.” As it should be. Stories should always have a happy ending. I just finished reading a wonderful novel about the most endearing child ( a granddaughter no less) and it had a happy ending (bittersweet but happy). It was very thought provoking and superbly well written. I don’t see the point of spending hour after hour reading a book or watching a movie only to end up being disappointed.. Imagine my dismay with Cold Mountain! My goodness I spent days invested in that man as he toiled torturous years traveling to find his lost love only to die as soon as he reunites! What the heck! Not good. Stories need to have happy endings.

We were visiting my Mom a few weeks ago and as always they are watching old movies all day and night. (The system I was raised by). Mostly old westerns and musicals. There was a Fred Astaire movie on and I had to leave the house to run an errand. When I got back I sarcastically asked “ did Fred Astaire finally get the girl? Was everything good?” Of course I knew the answer, these old movies always have a happy ending. I grew up watching old movies every chance I got. I wanted to dance like Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire. I wanted to shoot like the Rifleman and ride like the Lone Ranger and the Cisco Kid. I wanted to save the world like The Scarlet Pimpernel.

In the book I just finished, the darling precocious little 7 year old girl had the most special relationship with her Granny. It was a magical and spiritual bond. They even communicated in their own made up language when they didn’t want others to know what they were saying. They shared fairy tale stories and had adventures. The little girl thought her Grandma had super powers! The story explores how important their relationship was and how it affected all those around them.

We have been spending quality time lately with our grandkids every chance we get. At some point our story will end. I want them to think I could dance like Fred Astaire. I want them to think I could ride like the Lone Ranger or at least be as smart as Curious George or as clever as Jake the Pirate and as brave as Moana. I want to be like granny in the story. I want them to think I had a super power (no, writing run on sentences is not a super power). I want them to live happily ever after.

So I will continue to love them and show them how important they are! I will continue to write blogs so some day they can read them all and realize how much they meant to me. Someday they will say “wow our grandpa sure was weird, but he must have really loved us – and what the hell is a Scarlet Pimpernel?”

My wife, having just finished reading a novel, handed it to me with the comment, “you will probably like this – the character made me think of you”.  Before she could finish her comment, I thought to myself, Wow, he must be some swashbuckling hero, or maybe a renaissance man, or a hunky Prince Charming guy, or a movie star that saves the world, or a sexy Tango dancer.  “He’s an old curmudgeon” she said as she walked away.  Whoa – Earth to Dan!

Am I really an old curmudgeon? Let me see. I do seem to be a little set in my ways, just a little. Maybe I do seem to make comments to others under my breath or even shout out loud if I think it will help. You know- simple helpful phrases to strangers like “dumbshit” when they don’t use their turn signal – Ever! Or the dumbshit that absolutely cannot put all four tires between the white lines in the parking spot! There is the dumbshit that parks right outside the Harris Teeter store entry door when there are clearly a gazillion parking spots not being used.  Oh and the dumbshit that I have to yell at because he drives too fast down my street. (Sometimes I jump out in the street and give him hand signals to slow down-apparently he hasn’t learned sign language yet – the dumbshit.)  There is the dumbshit neighbor that parks his truck in his front yard. “We live in the city and there are rules- this is a civilized society ya dumbshit”.  He just waves. There are the dumbshit baristas at Starbucks. Every time I visit they say “what is your name again?” And I always say “my name is still Dan”. So 20 minutes later some dude or dudette yells out “Grande white mocha, no whip for Don”. Even my 4 year old grandson can tell a lower case ”a” from an “o”.

I do have a habit of looking out the front door, and much like the town crier, telling my wife the minute by minute goings on of all the neighbors.  Important stuff like who is home and who is not, how they should do better mowing their lawns, who has visitors, who hasn’t picked up the package off their porch. I am just curious, not nosy. I tell all the birds in the back yard what is going on and they don’t call me a curmudgeon – well maybe Bob the squirrel does.

I can’t help it that the baggers in the store have their head up their butts when they bag the bread Under the bottle of milk- “here let Me bag those ya dumbshit” not out loud of course. Or that the city always knocks over my trash can when they unload it blocking the sidewalk – “what-  they can’t take 30 seconds and fix it?”

Actually the book was very good – it made me laugh and cry.  It is called “A Man Called Ove”. I will not spoil the plot but you should read it.

I would tell you more about the book but gotta go now – the mail carrier is coming and she never puts the mailbox lid down right when she brings the mail – dumbshit.

Well it was of my own doing – or “undoing” would be a better way to put it.  Last year while I was easing into my retirement, I continued to work part time hours cleaning up old projects and doing odds and ends either from home or occasionally at the office.  It was good to see my buds and go out to lunch once in a while.  Seeing I had a new boss since my transition to retirement, I thought it only proper and generous of me to offer my help should he need it.  That’s the rub!  He accepted my offer of help late last year with regard to some new projects coming up in this new year.  It is too late to back out now, not wishing to be unprofessional.  So now beginning this week and for 8 weeks I will be working on a job site in the middle of Outer East Jibbip.

I had become accustomed to waking up at 7:30 or so and having my first coffee while talking to the dozens of birds in my little back yard.  I have 4 bird feeders that attract many calming and beautiful birds to spend the “break of day” conferring with. Cardinals, blue jays, wrens, doves, chickadees, with an occasional woodpecker and a visiting hummingbird all come to feast at my backyard smorgasbord.  I tell them how spoiled they are eating all my freshly supplied bird seed. They tell me to buzz off and leave them alone.  It is a quite relaxing morning routine. Even the squirrels get into the act but they have learned to ignore me for years.  They still stare at me and play with their nuts.

Now suddenly my calm will be breached by all manner of creatures screaming at me. Let’s see, I will be confronted by truck drivers unhappy with waiting to be unloaded, steel erectors unhappy with the line- up of trucks waiting, general contractors unhappy with the delays and number of trucks blocking the entrances, town police unhappy with trucks in the street, dispatchers unhappy with their drivers calling them to complain – and all of this before 7:30 each morning. Who agrees to this punishment?? What in the world was I drinking when I agreed to this stuff??

I gathered all my usual old work boxes and “tools of the trade” for my journey.  I dusted off my old hard hat and steel toed boots. The old “truck” was loaded up and ready to go.  I had my tiny job site trailer delivered on Monday.  Not exactly the same as sitting on the back deck watching the birds. They will miss me – they told me so since I had to explain why I was leaving. The squirrels not so much!

I remember counting the days until my “first” retirement – now I will be counting the days once more – 52 to be exact- until I get to say all over again –“ I quit – unless of course you still need my help”.

Lately I have been fascinated by the current onslaught of television shows depicting versions of the British Monarchy with movies about Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth II.  As a huge Shakespeare fan I have also immersed myself in the PBS reissued movies called The Hollow Crown, specifically the history of the ascension and demise of Henry VI followed by the taking of the crown by Richard III.  Granted, not everything by Shakespeare has corroborated truths but the historical chronology is mostly accurate.

It is beguiling to watch all the fighting between the political families demanding their place in the order of rule along with the Dukes, and Earls claiming their right of lineage to the throne.  The constant imprisonments, banishments, lying, midnight murders, children hiding in the Tower (pun intended), deceitful dealings between courtiers – why I might as well be watching the current state of American democracy, not 15th century England.

Our current state of government lineage is as if Richard III and Dogberry (obvious Shakespeare references) had conceived a child together and their DNA united personalities became a President – intentionally wicked and unknowingly stupid.

With that backdrop of political climate in mind, my wife and I will be among the throngs of fellow pitchfork and torch carriers (ok, just banners & buttons) coming Saturday after the Friday coronation. Our first king since King George incited the need for our revolution.  We will be marching with many who are simply expressing their fears and concerns for human rights and dignity. In the end, Richard III was undone by his own greed and self-importance, and Dogberry had no idea he was an idiot. Future generations will note this as a mere hiccup in our democratic process, but those who remember the great sacrifices in their lifetime to achieve basic human rights for women, persons of color and religious freedoms have a moral compass leading them to at least make a statement for those in fear of losing what has been achieved so painstakingly over decades.

As a young adult in the sixties, I watched many of my generation support those whose ideals were molding the framework of freedoms long sought after. Now as a person in my sixties it is only fitting that I show respect to those who worked so hard and gave so much to get us to a level of human rights that even now are just baby steps in the evolution of what should be.

For me this is not a political statement.  The election process over my lifetime is always wrought with disappointment along party lines, and we always figure it out.  This was not a political victory or defeat. This was a travesty of deceit, manipulation, and disregard for basic rights. I simply light my torch to show support for those now being thrown back into the dark.

It’s depressing enough to take down all the holiday decorations as the New Year rolls in, but to have the weather be so uncooperatively dreary just lends to the despair.  It’s not that I need decorations and festive lights and a shiny decorated tree to bring me happiness.  Of course not, but seeing all the children gathered around for this specific season of sharing made for a unique, uplifting level of joy – possibly one that may never happen again. It was like the Haley’s Comet of family gatherings.  Having it end so soon is the heartbreak.

There is no denying the joy in seeing 1-1/2 year olds running around the “great circle” of the house chasing after the dog, while carrying a toy in one hand and gold fish crackers in the other-all the while a mother or two following close behind admonishing “don’t run with your mouth full” or “she won’t bite, she’s a good puppy”. Actually it was the dog afraid of being bitten.

Or the 3 year olds vying for attention by seeing who can jump, yell, or play a musical instrument the loudest. Not to be outdone, the 6 year old was trying to be playmate, mother, babysitter and big sister to all the other little ones, and doing a great job.  Trying to decide whether to watch Thomas the Train, Curious George, The Land Before Time, or one of a dozen princess videos was the crucial beginning of each morning.  It was magical to see all the little ones jump up on the couches with one or more of their cousins to take in a brief cartoon. Soon one or more would take off to the playroom or kitchen or back into the great circle.  Whichever room I would walk into there would be a little one coloring (usually on the paper), or eating something (I’m sure that was food in their mouth), or playing with a toy or make believe or playing with Uncle Russell.  Walking into the dining room and seeing 2 little ones in high chairs, 2 toddlers in and out of a booster chair and others gathering around wherever a place was open was just plain wonderful.

Who knew that a chiming grandfather clock would be such a wonder to little ears and eyes or that hanging kitchen utensils would make the dreams of toddlers come true-simple pleasures.  Meals were in shifts based on age. Parents attending to children – and children talking, playing, and listening to parents – even if not their own was heartwarming.  Adults would gather later for dinner and lots and lots of laughter after the kids went to bed -usually with a glass of wine in one hand – baby monitors nearby.  Kids got along, parents got along, I got along – who knew that 13 people and a dog could get along – it was a Christmas miracle!

One of the more special moments of the Holiday visit was the totally spontaneous “dance party” that erupted on Christmas evening while the kids were still up (thank you Uncle Adam). Adults and children  just dancing and spinning and playing instruments unscripted was a complete joy. Toddlers and parents and Grandma all “getting their groove on”.  It looked like a mash up of Motown with 5 little monkeys dancing on the bed with some jingle bell rock thrown in! What a Hoot! It was family, our family being happy – there isn’t anything better to wish for in the New Year.

We will be finding cheerios for months.  We found the miniature bowling ball that was deemed lost forever under the couch last night, and “little people” continue to appear out of nowhere!  It was hard to not just leave the “playroom” in its natural disastrous state – reminding us of the hours of fun it shared every day.

So each time I take another string of lights down, or put another ornament back in its box, it is a reminder of what enormous joy and comfort my family brings to my soul.  Between photos, videos and face book sharing, it will be available for posterity.  In my heart it will always be there to make every rainy day sunny.

I have probably had a beard almost my entire adult life. I believe there are only a few times that my children have ever seen me without one. If they were to see me shaved they would probably issue a silver alert. Normally I keep it trimmed, and even cut to the “scruffy” ruggedly handsome look – if I was 40 years younger and 20 pounds lighter that is. Last year a month before Christmas I decided to let it grow without trimming until after the holidays. The fact that is almost pure white gave me a bit of the Santa look along with my “jolly old soul”, bit of a belly and glasses. With that in mind, I decided to go with it. Starting in mid December I would always go out with my Santa hat on. It wasn’t long before I would get an occasional awestruck look from a toddler – I loved it.

The nearby University has an annual Winter Spectacular Christmas open house with wondrous outdoor festivities, including train rides, stilt walkers, manger scenes, fake snow, and of course the “real” Santa. As we walked around the campus enjoying the free food and hot cocoa, it wasn’t long before the children passing by started waving and calling me Santa. One darling little girl came up to me and asked me point blank – “are you Santa”? I told her very politely that I was not Santa, but that I was his helper and that I would be seeing him soon. I told her that Santa knew her very well and would remember her on Christmas. She then matter -of -factly told me that I needed to tell him Not to miss her this year! It was a hoot and a half.

This year I decided to start the Santa beard even sooner. It is not really that long or bushy but is longer than any time in my life. Lately I have thought about just shaving it back down because it was actually taking some effort to comb it. I had not used a comb in 20 years – and now I had to have one for my face – crazy. Until a few weeks ago that is! We were visiting 2 of our grandchildren and our 3 year old granddaughter said “Grandpa – you look like Santa”. I knew then that the beard had to stay.

Last night we were at a mall out of town and inadvertently walked by the actual mall Santa set up with the elves and Rudolph and Frosty, giant candy canes etc. – and as we passed – the “real” Santa gave me a jolly old wave and a nod. I felt like I was just invited into the club. Validation!

Today we were doing some last minute shopping and I went to the local Target to pick up some stocking stuffers. As I was walking down an aisle I heard a little girl say to her mother, “Look Mommy. Look behind you. Is it him? Do you think it is Santa? Look Mommy.” I was melting with joy. Soon the mother and daughter came close by. The mom said “go ahead, ask him, don’t be afraid, just ask him.” The little girl came up to me and quietly asked in almost a whisper, “Are you Santa?” I told her no, as I had the children the year before with some gentle comments about Christmas and Santa knowing her etc. She seemed satisfied with my answer and the Mom was pleased that I didn’t ruin anything or act stupid. I walked away smiling and feeling so happy.

On my way home from Target I stopped at CVS to pick up some stuff. As I walked down an aisle a laughing elderly woman stopped me and said, “Oh My God – I’ve lived over 70 years and I now finally get to see Santa – let me tell you what I want!” It was fun – I told her –“no need, I already know what you want!” She said “of course you do-well then, I suppose you also know where I live.” I said “of course”. She said “good, then leave my present on the back porch – I want the one with the double hopper as you know” and laughed and walked away. (I had no idea what she was talking about.)

She heard me exclaim as I walked out of sight “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night”.

We have often talked about our joy of grandparenting since our retirement.   Having 5 crazy little ones to keep company with from time to time is our grandparenting  highlight. The fun of this part of life’s journey has been how it has incorporated our love of travel into our schedule of babysitting.   Peg has labeled it “Destination Babysitting”.

It would be quite the norm for most to be at home and occasionally have grandchildren brought by for a time of visitation and babysitting, but our children have never been part of the “norm”.   Of course not.  Our babysitting duties require a bit of traveling.   Thus we designate our travels as the “Grandma & Grandpa Train”.   As the grandchildren are apart geographically we get to travel to babysit – sometimes to coincide with their parents needs, and always to coincide with our wants.

We have traveled the short 1 hour drive for the  Two Princess Tour, the 5 hour drive for the 1 Princess and a Puppy Tour, and the 1 ½  hour plane trip for the Train Master Toddler and his Wobbly Sister Tour.

We have even traveled to Chicago for a weekend babysitting gig as the parents had plans to be there with a babysitting need – of course call for the G&G Train. We have traveled more than a few times taking  the G&G Train to New York and Chapel Hill as needed.

The most unusual and rewarding trip occurred on a recent extended weekend .   For various reasons we – meaning all 3 of our daughters, and all 3 sons in law and all 5 grandchildren along with G&G – were all in New York  City for the same weekend.  The G&G train was ready.  On that Friday night we had to split up the team so one grandparent was babysitting on the Upper West side of Manhattan while the other was pulling duty on the Upper East side.  On Sunday night the team was together to put the two Princesses to bed on the UWS while their parents deservedly celebrated Mom’s completion of the NYC Marathon. On Monday we babysat the 1 princess on the UES while her parents went to a concert.  On Tuesday we were back to the Train Station Master Toddler and his Wobbly Sister home as I babysat while the parents and Grandma were out for a quiet dinner.

Then on Wednesday  the G&G Train flew back home.  Two days later the Two Princesses came  to our house for a visit as the Train took a long needed refueling stop at the home station.

Ain’t life just Grand!babies