As I’m sitting down to write my May blog, I’m trying to remember what I wrote about for April’s post. I have no clue. I worry if I’ll be writing the same exact words. Then I remembered I can reread April’s blog. Duh!

So much has changed in one month. Every time I leave our house, I wear a face mask. I wash my hands so much my fingers are wrinkly. OK, they were wrinkly before, but they are really wrinkly now. My hair color makes me look like a skunk with a big white streak running down my scalp. My fingernails are a mess. What I’ve realized is that this is the new normal.

Trying to Meet Goals

One of my goals last month was to Zoom with the grandkids once a week. We’ve only chatted on Zoom twice. The first time, it was just to connect together and it was perfect. The second time was when we all decorated Easter cookies.

It’s no one’s fault this hasn’t worked out more often. There seems to be virtual school still going on. Also, all of the grandkids work and their schedules frequently conflict. My only schedule is getting to bed at my normal time, which is sometimes when they’re just getting home from work. In spite of missing the mark with this goal, I continue my quest to touch base with them once a day.

The adjusted goal for this grandma is to learn something new each week. I give my grandkids the opportunity to suggest what the goal is, but I get to make the final decision. They don’t always know my physical limitations or my physical abilities. Heck, I may or may not know my own abilities or limitations.

Setting New Goals

This past week, I was challenged to tap dance. Our daughters took lessons, and the three granddaughters took lessons. I always loved the sounds, the rhythm, and of course, the recital costumes. I tap danced 65 years ago, so I knew it would come back to me quickly. I think they call it muscle memory. I decided to take tap dancing on as a goal.

The grandkids chuckled and were excited to see what I could accomplish. Actually, I don’t think that statement is true. That’s what they lead me to believe.

I quickly found a YouTube tap dance lesson online. I couldn’t find a lesson that was very long and involved, which was a blessing to me! You have to pay for those lessons. Here I go. Front toe taps, side toe taps, heel taps, ball change. These were all steps I recalled from my own lessons many years ago. What could go wrong other than the grandkids nagging me for my video?

Tapping My Way Through It

I danced in my Mary Jane shoes with a 1.5-inch heel as running shoes would not have been appropriate. Toe taps went well. Heel taps were good. Putting them together with a shuffle was not as good. It’s called balance.

What the heck was I thinking when I decided to wear heeled shoes when I haven’t worn anything but running shoes since the beginning of March? Yes, the balance was a bit off, and the video I made showed a tad bit of hesitation, but I did it and I’ll continue to shuffle ball changing once a week.

My tap dancing may bring humorous relief and take my grandkids’ minds off COVID-19 for a couple of minutes, but it won’t tap our way out of the pandemic. As long as the tap dancing video brings a smile to their faces, I’ve achieved my goal.

This summer, we had a granddaughter working at one of those pop-up green houses. Her location was near one of the Super Savers in town.

I bought a flat of marigolds and planted them early. She was a great help in picking out the color and size of the plants. Not to brag, but I thought I did a pretty good job of planting the flowers. They began to grow and provide some colorful blooms. Then the monsoon rains fell, and fell, and continued to fall. The marigolds were planted in a small trench around our curved backyard patio.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

The flowers did not come with life jackets or scuba gear, so they drowned in the standing water. I asked my granddaughter what I should do. She assured me the plants would probably not make it, but it would be wise to be patient and wait until the rain stopped and the sun dried things off. As you recall, the rain continued to fall and the plants were a total loss. She suggested I buy more plants and start over in a couple of weeks.

That’s what I did. I followed my granddaughter’s instructions and I bought another flat of marigolds to start the process over. I wanted to give her a little more business, so I bought some succulents. I had some in past years, but it had been a while. I thought it was time to grow some again. My granddaughter encouraged this purchase, probably because she knew they wouldn’t be washed out by the rain.

Succulents Sucking the Fun from Gardening

She helped me pick out a variety of succulents, all of which looked rather exotic. I purchased six—five of them would go into a large container and the sixth to be planted in an individual pot. After more purchases, I planted everything and was pleased with the process and results.

About a month later, my granddaughter showed up at our house. I’ve seen her several times within the month, but our visits are not as frequent as when she was young. I miss conversations with each of the grandkids. However, their lives have gotten busy and I understand—plus, they have to make money for college! When she came into our house, she was looking around the kitchen and living room for a small picture frame she wanted to borrow. She noticed the succulents in the big container and said, “Grandma, don’t you ever water these?” I responded with a hem hawing, “yes?” Then she told me they were too dry and would die. I thanked her for her advice. She smiled at me, found the picture frame and gave me a hug.

A month later, my granddaughter came to our house to take part in a family meal and looked at the succulents. “Grandma, you are over watering the plants. They will die.” Of course, I wanted to tell her to make up her mind, but I did not. She was right. Some of the leaves were dropping off and the plants were starting to look pathetic. She suggested the ice cube method of watering plants. Who would have thought you could put an ice cube in the pot and that would be enough water to feed it.

It’s All a Balancing Act

I realized then there was a lesson to be learned—there needed to be a balance in watering the succulents. Likewise, there needs to be a balance in being a grandma of growing grandkids. If I pay too much attention to them, (i.e., texts, calls, concern because I don’t see them enough), they feel smothered. The other extreme is not paying any attention to them, never texting or writing to them and they will forget me. OK, they won’t forget me, but you get the picture.

Whether watering the succulents or being a loving, nurturing grandma, finding the right balance is the key to a healthy relationship. The challenge is finding a balance in a constantly changing world. I’m up for that challenge. As we age we can either watch the world in our rear view mirrors, or through our windshield as new things come at us. The art of grandparenting, if done right, pays us huge dividends

The other week I went to Omaha to visit my sister, her husband and our foreign exchange student visiting from Norway. Bjorg stayed with us during the ’62-’63 school year. Although we’ve seen each other about every seven years, all of us understand those transatlantic trips get more difficult with age and our visits may be numbered. We made the most of every minute we were together. During the week, we went to the Henry Doorly Zoo, Lauritzen Gardens, Old Market, Joslyn Art Museum and more. Each site was special and we loved the time to explore and get reacquainted with each other and the venue.

Visiting the Joslyn Museum was an especially fun day. The four “grandparents” were joined by my sister’s daughter and her three children, as well as her daughter-in-law and her two daughters. Even though all of my sister’s grandkids live in Omaha, I don’t get a chance to see them very often. They are all incredibly active in sports, cheerleading and work—not much different from my own grandkids. I thought about it and realized I really only see my sister’s grandkids on holidays and for a few birthdays. So I was determined to make this Joslyn visit count as a time to remind them who Grandma Nancy is.

Piecing Together Time with Everyone

Where are they? It was as though the adopted grandkids were always one step ahead of me throughout the entire museum. I did catch site of the two girls entranced with Degas’ Little Dancer, but by the time we came to the piece, the girls vanished. I realized my time with Bjorg was more important, so I stopped stalking them.

The grandmas and grandpa finally caught up with the grandkids in the museum gift shop. My sister and Bjorg found the jewelry counter, my brother-in-law stayed out of the shop completely, and I was enthralled with the toys, especially a wooden puzzle. It appeared to look like a mini two-dimensional Rubik’s Cube. The girls came up behind me staring at the puzzle I was trying to complete. We knew what the puzzle should look like when completed: 12 mini cubes arranged in a 3 x 4 shape. We also knew the “try me” sample I held in my hand was in a straight line. They looked at me and challenged me to put the straight line form into the 3 x 4 completed shape.

Try, Try, Try Again

I tried. I tried again, and again. What was I missing? I handed it to one of the girls. She looked at it for three seconds and completed the puzzle. She handed it over to me with this smug look on her face. I undid the puzzle and gave it to her younger sister, thinking surely this little girl wouldn’t be able to complete the task. She, like her sister, took a moment to look at the pieces, then quickly completed the task. I gasped and grabbed each girl, hugging them until they giggled with glee. They laughed hysterically at Grandma Nancy. Their laughter increased when they again challenged me to complete the puzzle. Nope, I couldn’t do it.

At the end of our visit when we were saying our goodbyes, the girls surprised me with a gift of the wooden puzzle. They said they wanted me to have it so I could practice putting it together; we had another good laugh.

Not All of Life’s Puzzles Are So Simple

When I got back to Lincoln, I looked at the puzzle in its neat 3 x 4 rectangle. How could this silly thing be so hard? I refused to touch it for a day. But the next day, I was determined to figure it out. As I began rearranging the pieces, I noticed how it was put together. How the pieces were notched and how they were held together. Oh, it now made sense. I then remembered how each girl took time to analyze the situation prior to jumping in to complete the puzzle like I had done—lesson learned.

I also noticed the puzzle’s recommended age, 3+. Was this a test of a senior citizen’s brain versus a young brain? It certainly was a good reminder for me to analyze a situation or puzzle before attempting to solve it. I also give credit to educators for not just teaching kids what to learn, but more importantly, how to learn. I am thankful I can continue to learn from all of my grandkids. Maybe Grandma Nancy should go back to school!