April 23, 2025
I’m happy to report that for the most part, our back
yard and front yard are now (somewhat) presentable. The front yard has been
raked and the small gardens weeded. The back one has been cleaned and raked,
the outdoor furniture cleaned as needed, and our garden boxes ready to be sown
and the “lawn” ready for grass seed.
Did it surprise me that after the frantic activity to
get it all done in time for the “Easter egg hunt” this past Monday, that when
the day came, it was a rainy one? No, not particularly. That sort of thing happens
a lot around here. And that’s not a problem if one is simply able to just go
with the flow. By eleven in the morning on Monday, an hour before our guests
were due to arrive, our daughter hid the eggs in plain sight inside four rooms
of the house.
The “Easter eggs” in question were plastic, and
hollow, and therefore fillable. My girls decided some time ago that these would
be more fun and less work, and I can attest that there was a lot of scoping and
then seeking and excitement for the children when the day came.
The girls spent a good part of Sunday preparing those
eggs. At one point I looked at all the candy, small toys, and coins they had arrayed
on the kitchen table as they filled those eggs and just shook my head. In all
there were 100 eggs of various colors, but only one was the “golden egg” and
that one held a ten dollar bill!
I should tell you that our family Easter celebration
was held on Easter Monday because not only did that mesh with the girls’ work schedules,
but that day is a school holiday here in Ontario. There were 10 of us in all,
including 3 of my greatgrandchildren. After the fun of the baskets, and the
hunt, we had a late lunch/early dinner of ham, sweet potatoes, salads, and
various other veggies. For dessert there was a large bowl of “Gramma Berries”,
and ice cream.
For the number of beings held under this roof (10
human, 6 dogs, 1 cat) it all turned out quite well. They were dispersed to
their own homes by 4:30 in the afternoon, at which point yours truly took rest in
my recliner.
While I will confess that the noise of this sort of
gathering can be a bit much, it’s still one of my most cherished pleasures. I
may not play with my greatgrandchildren as much as their grandmothers do,
but I do enjoy them. My daughter might be surprised to read that. She tells me
I don’t have much patience anymore, and in a way that is so. But I would also point
out I must have enough patience, as no child has ever come to harm under
my roof, and certainly none of them hesitate to hug me, something they wouldn’t
do if they were afraid of me. I don’t know if she’d appreciate that sentiment
but it’s true. It’s true because it’s ok if I scowl or look annoyed when the
kids are yelling and running and getting out of hand. And it’s ok if I do the
same when they sass, which they all do from time to time. And its ok if I raise
my voice to be heard when no one else is stepping in to restore a semblance of
order to the insanity.
Each generation raises its young a little differently,
don’t you think? When I was a child, my mother never apologized, not even when
she had made a mistake or was wrong. If I was punished for something I didn't
do, and she later learned that I really had been innocent of the charge? She
never said, “I’m sorry”. Instead, she always said, “you probably did something
I don’t know about.”
No, that was not my parenting style. I rode the pendulum
of behavior toward the other end. I did apologize, and I did let them say their
piece. However, I didn’t tolerate back-talk, especially if it was rude. Stealing
and lying, something most children do at least once in their young lives was
unacceptable, always. I would give a time out, and on very rare occasions, for
very bad behavior, a spanking.
Times change, but core values don’t. At least, they
shouldn’t.
I gave a helping hand when there was a need with some
of my grandchildren. But when it comes to the greats? Well, they have
grandmothers younger and more energetic than I am. And I certainly wouldn’t
want to deprive them of their own special moments with their grandchildren.
After all, I had a few of those with my own.
I’m content to sit and listen when the greats are here,
to guide and join in card games, and to give hugs as needed. And, of course, I
feed them. I can still cook, and I can say with great gratitude, that my
greatgrandchildren and yes, the others too, do appreciate my culinary
offerings.
Isn’t the rhythm of life, and living, a wonderful
thing?
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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