Weekend in GrandmaLand!

As soon as my oldest daughter and son-in-law left for the airport for their weekend getaway, I settled in for an enjoyable time with my grandchildren.

My oldest grandson (nearly 8) and granddaughter (almost 5) and my youngest daughter and my youngest grandson (just 3) were playing happily in the backyard wading pool. Their happy giggles were lulling me into a false sense of tranquility.

I checked the list my daughter left me:

• Close the blinds at night, open them in the morning.
• Make sure the kids brush their teeth before bed & after breakfast (I assume she thinks I grew up prior to dentistry or Mr. Tooth Decay. Heh.).
• Feed the dog twice a day (canned food), etc.
  

Speaking of THE DOG:

She warned me that Fiona, their 2-pound toy poodle (heretofore called THE DOG) was going through a false pregnancy. In other words, THE DOG is neurotic. Ok. I can deal with that. THE DOG thinks her squeaky plastic toy (egg with a baby dinosaur emerging) is her baby. The main worry is that if the kids get near it while she’s holding it, she growls at the kids. She had just had an operation and teeth cleaned and the vet told her that it might take a few weeks to get over this FP syndrome. My biggest worry for the weekend was that I would turn my back and one of the kids would get nipped. I was on guard.

Friday night was pretty uneventful. I let the kids stay up late, we had pizza and they got out their Thomas the Train set and had fun with the tracks, tunnels and bridges. Teeth were brushed and everyone went to bed. Everyone shared. So far so good.

By Saturday the two oldest (the sibling brother and sister) were fighting over the Thomas train cars, and nearly everything else. By early evening, I made a dinner run for take out, they had their baths, brushed their teeth (fed THE DOG) and I collapsed in the chair.

At 3am my granddaughter woke me crying for her daddy. She had an “accident” in her bed that I found no sign of whatsoever, but I took her word for it. I was blurry eyed but managed to wash her, change her pj’s and grabbed a beach towel to cover her bed so she could go back to sleep.

Sometime after daybreak my oldest grandson woke me to say the doggie had an ‘accident’ on the rug and he had stepped in it. That accident was very visible! Evidently, the canned dog food didn’t sit well with MS CANINEUS NEUROTICUS! Of course, she avoided the hardwood floor and chose the white carpet. My gagging woke up my daughter and the other grandchildren. I cleaned the carpet and put another beach towel down. I was running out of beach towels!

After averting this latest crisis, the kids had breakfast, brushed their teeth and resumed the sibling battles where they ended the night before.

I broke my nail loading the dishwasher between breaking up fights, soothing boo-boos, and waiting for my daughter’s plane to land. After they arrived and I showed them the tree branch, discussed the various ‘accidents’ and reasons there were beach towels all over the place, my youngest daughter and grandson and I drove home.

That evening, the kids called. My oldest grandson apologized for being a ‘bad boy'. I explained to him he wasn’t a ‘bad boy’, but he and his sister could learn to work out their differences a little better. Then my granddaughter got on the phone. "Grandma, I’m sorry I drove you crazy!” “Sweetie”, I said, “You didn't drive me crazy. Your mother beat you to it.”