Grandkids

Tuesday evening we went to our grandson's pre-school Christmas program.  It wasn't his first public appearance, but this was in a different church and in front of mostly strangers, rather than the crowd he's used to in his home church.

These "firsts" are really interesting now that I'm the grandmother.  You never know what a kid is really like until they're in front of an audience. Like any bunch of kids, these were a smorgasbord of personalities from the toddlers on up to the five year old preschoolers.

Priming these innocents for a program begins at home, of course.  Since our daughter and husband have four in ages six, four, two, and eight months, we went early (like mid-afternoon) to lend a helping hand in getting the family all pulled together to be there in time.  Actually, Papa and I mostly did a little housekeeping, diapering, making a tomato soup and salad supper,  and then cleaning all that up.

While we were getting supper on the table, Amy laid out goodies on the dining room table for teacher gifts.  I'm not sure of the total number of gifts she had to put together for all the teachers encompassing church and school.   Each of the three olders have a couple of Sunday School teachers, several Wednesday night church teachers because there's a lot of part-time sharing, and the first grader has a couple of teachers in public school.  I'm out of breath just thinking about it!  Amazingly, they got them done without eating all of the M & Ms.

Gone are the days when, with only a couple of kids, Amy baked up dozens of different kinds of cookies.  She's learning the freedom of keeping things simple.  I tell her once all of these babies are in school her time will be more her own again.  From the look of her arched eyebrows I get the distinct impression she doesn't believe me.  Or, perhaps she considers her sanity will be gone by then.  Na,  "you're going to be just fine, dear daughter."

But I digressed.  Back to our grandson's first really public performance.  I didn't think it was very nice that his teacher singled him out to complain that he hadn't talked to her this Fall, but at least she prefaced it with "Derek is soft-spoken," which was an understatement in a kind of flattering way.

Papa and I were wondering if he would be too shy to even walk onstage with the rest of his class.  He looked really snazzy in black slacks, a crisp white shirt, a plaid red, white, and black vest, and red cowboy boots like his daddy always wears (altho' Daddy's aren't red).  Oh, and I don't want to forget that he wore a black tie that peeked out the top of his vest.  He enjoyed the compliments we all gave him before we left home.

He did really well, even singing the "Twelve Days of Christmas," in which a couple of students took their turn with each day--he and a buddy sang the 11th day together.  The song got pretty long, and when he sat down in place I got to thinking that might not be a good sign.  Finally, it was finished and it was announced the boys and some of the girls had to get their angel and shepherd attire on.

I got to wondering why Derek didn't leave the stage with the other little guys.  Finally, one of the teachers noticed it too and escorted him out.  When he didn't return with the other "shepherds," Papa looked at me and said, "bathroom."  I wasn't sure because the teacher had made a point of mentioning Derek's name when she dismissed the boys to get their costumes on.

After that, it kind of fell apart.  I'm assuming Derek refused to dress up like a shepherd 'cause he was dressed to the nines, and he wanted to keep it that way.  The teacher came back with him, and had to pick him up and put him on stage.  He promptly walked to the edge of the stage and sat down.  Teacher put him back up.  He walked to the risers and stepped down to the front row (2 rows ahead of us) and sat down like any other spectator.  He was so deliberate about it all, so serious and "adult" about it, neither laughing or crying.  Maybe in a few days he'll share with me what was going on in that towhead of his.

Through all this, his daddy was trying to get his attention to stay and stand, but Derek wasn't cooperating.  Finally, his older sis, Alana, sat down with him on the front row and tried to talk him into returning to the program.  Not even she could persuade him and finally gave up.  In the meantime his class had finished the song and gotten off stage.

Now, the program was over, the stage empty.  Except for one little four-year-old in red cowboy boots who had finally climbed back up the steps and looked ready for the next number.  He finally came down with coaxing from his oldest AND younger sisters.

When everyone was trying to get Derek to stand with his class, his 2-yr. old sis fussed because she wanted to go up there and sing with him.  She was ready to show him how it was done.  It's going to be interesting next Christmas when she'll also be in pre-school.

The best of this, is that there's one more program to get through--the children's program at church this Sunday evening.  We'll get to watch the three oldest shine.  Last year Derek wasn't about to do anything, not even for his paternal grandmother whose class he was in.  Nothing is going to keep me away from Sunday night's program unless I'm running a fever.  Oops! pretend I didn't say that--don't want to jinx it).

Did I mention that it's so much more fun being a grandparent than a parent?



 

Blah--What? Two posts in one day?

Did you ever go to the doctor feeling fine and come out feeling horrible?  Last Thursday I had a stomach endoscopy by a really nice doctor.  Well, I thought he was nice.  I had virtually no symptoms, now I've got 'em for gastritis and GERD! Then I added insult to injury by looking on the internet for information.  Now I really feel bad!  Actually, I'm feeling as good as can be expected.  Honestly I thought I was too laid back to have these stress-related disorders.

Apparently, I need to do some in-depth examination to see what I'm not doing right and what the heck I'm doing wrong to bring on this bad stuff.  But, wasn't it in-depth stuff that got me here in the first place?

How about an appeal for deliverance, "Therefore my spirit is overwhelmed within me;  my heart within me is distressed?" Psalm 143:4; and then in Psalm 131:1, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty.  Neither do I concern myself with great matters, nor with the things too profound for me."

If I must not concern myself with great matters nor with things too profound for me--although if it applies to you that's fine too...Having read and said that:  I need to make a commitment to stop watching TV, reading too many books, writing too many books (obviously even one would be too much, since I haven't written any:  Ecc. 12:12), trying to figure out economics and politics, trying to figure out the mind of a woman...Oh, oops, that would bring me right back to me when I'm not s'posed to concern myself with anything profound~~Ohhh, I'm getting dizzy.

There you have it.  Already, I'm weary of having just said as much or as little as possible without getting into some kind of philosophy or theology of what it means to be alive or a woman.  So, do I or do I not concern myself?

"Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with his/her mother;  like a weaned child is my soul within me."  Ps. 131:2.   If  only...

If only I would simplify my life by getting rid of stuff (mostly books) and the idea that I need to be concerned with things too lofty for me, and do my duties as a woman without thought or complaint, not only my life, but the lives of those around me would be simpler, right?

If only I could get a grip.  I'm 65, feeble and frail, synonym intended, and still haven't got figured out why I'm here.  Or, I've been in rebellion for almost a hundred years.  If only someone would tell me why I'm still around, although I've been tugged in several different directions--too bad I've only got 2 hands and 2 feet.

While I'm entertaining the "if onlies" I've gotta get away from this perplexing situation and indulge in some of that everyday busy-ness of making meals, doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning up after myself, my man, and a couple of useless house cats.  Altho' the cats are a nice soft landing for banging my head when I have a day like today.  Poor kitties.  Innocent animals often have the big job of being sympathizers to ruthless humans.

CAR! DEER!

I've been tweeking my blogspot the last few days. Take a look around, visit some of my favorite-other blogs and websites. I try to have some fun while I'm online.

I was surprised, when I did Yahoo and Google searches with the title of my blog, that it didn't pop up. It seems there are a lot of folks out there who have the same wanderlust, using wonder and wander interchangeably in all kinds of combinations. I'm beginning to wonder if I have entitled my blog correctly, even though I still like it, especially with it prefacing the Bible verse from I Chronicles. Perhaps I need to stay true to the title though; do a little less wandering and more wondering.

I've liked the word "wandering" since I was a youngster and heard my sister's high school glee glub sing the song, "The Happy Wanderer, " by Frank Weir, for the first time. All these years I've looked for a way to memorialize the happy associations with this word, which is why I decided to use it on the blog.

Here are the words for those who want to remember: (http://www.lyricfinder.org/)

I love to go a-wandering, Along the mountain track,

And as I go, I love to sing, My knapsack on my back.

Chorus: Val-deri, val-dera, Val-deri, val-dera, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,
Val-dera, My knapsack on my back

I love to wander by the stream, That dances in the sun
So joyously it calls to me, Come join my happy song.
Chorus

I wave my hat to all I meet, And They wave back to me
And blackbirds call so loud and sweet, From ev'ry green wood tree.
Chorus

Oh may I go a-wandering, Until the day I die
Oh, may I always laugh and sing, Beneath God's clear blue sky.

Val-deri, val-dera, Val-edri, val-dera Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, Val-dera
Beneath the clear blue sky, Beneath the clear blue sky.

I still get happy chills when I sing it. I loved it because I had never been anywhere outside of Kansas, but I always wanted to sit beside a gurgling stream in the cool mountains. Thank goodness we've vacationed in Colorado numerous times and wandered happily beside a mountain stream.

Did today's blog title pique your curiosity? If you comment or give feedback on blogs than you're familiar with the verification words that need to be mimicked before you can post your comment. I've been having fun making definitions for some of these words and thought I would share some of them with you.

For instance: cardeer is what you get when you cross your car with a deer. Here are a few more:

Locat: cat under the couch;

Menni: plural for Mennonite;

Fentist: professional fence builder;

Moperst: a street where mopers go to live;

Culters: people living around cul de sacs;

Witales: stories about Wi experiences;

Weecider: a tiny drink of cider.

You get the idea. I think I need a life!

Speaking of happy wandering, here are a few things our grandkids love to do as they wander/wonder through childhood.

Every kid has got to do the stretchy smile to get it on camera. I hope I'm around to show it to her boyfriends.

What would childhood be like without a swing set.?

This is what to do when you're bored.....

Anyone up for a game of Leapfrog?

This is how I feel at the end of some days

"I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older. Then it dawned on me . . . they're cramming for their final exam." ~George Carlin

I always appreciate a good joke...

however, I grew up Mennonite, so unless you are, were, or wanna be a Mennonite, you may not understand some of the Mennonite jokes--altho' Mennonite behavior is probably universal. In that case, welcome to the "club."

There are these three ministers on a boat. A Baptist, a Catholic and a Mennonite. The boat is sinking in stormy seas. The Baptist minister yells to the catholic "I haveta confess. I had an affair with our church secretary and with another member!" The Catholic priest realises that it's his turn to make peace with his maker and confesses his sins as he yells back to the Baptist "I've gotta confess myself. I tend to nip a little at the holy water when noone else is around and enjoy getting plastered." The listening Mennonite minister just sat there, listening with his mouth wide open.

The storm died down and the boat stayed afloat. All are relieved, but the Baptist and the Catholic minister are concerned about their confessions. They turn to the Mennonite minister and encourage him to confess his secret sin, also. The old Mennonite minister sat silent for a moment, debating whether or not to drag a skeleton out of his closet. Finally, he said "I have a real problem that neither of you would understand." The Baptist minister says "Well, speak up!" The Mennonite minister, in a sigh of resignation, said "I really find it difficult to keep myself from gossiping."

(Resource: http://members.tripod.com/~Willoewen/menlon.html)