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Recent Loon Posts!

• Buckle Up
• Stop Where You Are
• The Worm Tour
• Merry Christmas
• Baby Luke is Here!

Getting my little Tan Man (Tanner, my 3-year-old grandson) home to his Momma involves a couple of left turns, a merge onto the interstate and a fairly decent drop down a rounding curve.  Now as you may well know, driving an hour with a 3-year-old could go south very quickly if the mood turns dark.  But of course, this Grandma has a plan.  My first line of defense against a gloomy drive home is a snack bag full of animal crackers with a few gushers for a tad of extra insurance and a sippy cup full of water.

The next weapon in my Grandma arsenal is a series of silly games played at the same time each drive.  When we take a turn I always ask Tanner which way we should go.  He tells me “To the Left, to the left, to the left, to the left” (think line dancing songs here) OR “To the right, to the right, to the right, to the right.”  When we merge onto the interstate he throws his arms in the air and we yell “Wee” at the top of our lungs.  When we pass a car on the interstate we pretend we are sneaking up on the car and right when we pass it we make very loud growling and chomping sounds as we eat them up because we have morphed our car into a giant T-Rex (of course).  We scream and yell “Hide, Hide, Hide,” when someone is passing us because they have morphed their car into a  giant T-Rex as well and could very well eat us up if we aren’t careful.  Our best and final game is yelling “Buckle Up Buttercup it’s Gonna Get Crazy” every time we careen down the hill following the big curve in the road that leads to his house.

Jess calls me one evening and said she knew Tanner had been spending too much time with his Grandma when Momma-Pops (Tanner’s name for his other grandma) laid him down to change a particularly toxic diaper.  Tanner looked up at her with his big blue eyes and sly little grin and yelled “Buckle Up Buttercup Its Gonna Get Crazy!

I miss my Annika Baby more than I can even say. Finally, after the chaos of tax season and the massive clean up that was necessary in its aftermath, I finally had time to have a long telephone conversation with Christi. She had me laughing so hard with the antics of my little Annika Baby. One of these adventures I have to reshare.

Christi and Kenny sold their pool table and have decided to turn that room into a reading room. A place for quiet family activities such as reading, listening to soft music and otherwise just relaxing. With this new décor comes the need to purchase furniture, so off they go as a family unit to this amazing furniture store that is about the size of a large convention center. It is a furniture shopper’s paradise with sofas and bedding and tables and chairs and lamps and mirrors, oh my!

While Kenny is hunting down the exact perfect couch for the new reading room, Christi is in charge of Annika, our sweet but adventurous little 2 ½ year old. Annika is perfectly content running her mommy ragged in the bedding section when another little 2-year-old spies her. The other little one is so excited to see someone from her own species that she starts screaming and running toward Annika with her arms flailing in the wind. Now at this point, most little kids would be excited as well to see someone their own size and would immediately begin to develop a game to play. Nope, not our little over analytical girl. Her first response is to grab a weapon to protect herself from the stark raving mad banshee that is careening toward her. Her weapon of choice, remember we are in a furniture store? Nope, not a pillow or a lamp base. Not a hollowed out gourd or a pretty paper weight. Our precious little Annika Baby’s first choice of armament is the fire extinguisher hanging on the post in the center of the department.

So the visual left in my head is my poor Christi standing in the path of a screaming, careening toddler as her “Boss Baby” is deftly wielding a fire extinguisher with the look on her face of “Stop where you are or I’ll douse you where you stand!”

Man, I miss my Annika Baby!

A chubby little hand wrapped around the blue handle of a gardening trowel plunges into the soft moist dirt. A giggle escapes my sweet little three-year-old boy as he plops a towel full of dirt on Grandma’s arm. Beautiful flowers are somewhat abused as Tanner grabs them up by their stems and tosses them unceremoniously into his blue bucket on wheels for delivery to Grandma. Such is the day in the life of our garden with my little helper, Tanner.

One amazing scoop of dirt reveals a great surprise. “Worms!” Tanner yelled as he grabbed them up and put them in the palm of his chubby little hand to show me. Like a shot he was off to get his car. He threw his trowel in the back and dropped the worms in his hand alongside it. He came careening down the cobblestone path and parked right next to where the amazing find was found. He grabbed his trowel and said to me “Me like worms Grandma!” I said to Tanner, “Me like worms too Tanner!”. As I made my way down the row turning up the soil for the next plant Tanner intently looked over my shoulder, his trowel at the ready. As soon as he saw the first wiggle of a worm he would push me out of his way and say, “Tanner do it.” He would then carefully (as carefully as a three-year-old is capable of being careful) plunge his trowel into the ground pulling up a clump of dirt wiggly with worms. I would pull the squirmy little worms out of the dirt and plop them into his chubby little palm. I was thinking he would sit and play with the worms so I was a bit amused when he then took the worms and put them in the back of his car. Tanner spent the rest of our gardening time riding around the garden taking his worms on tour. They stopped to see the duck, the frog, the roosters, the cat and the Moi. They stopped under the plum tree to ring the windchimes. The final stop on the Tanner tour was the 3-foot Gargoyle. At this stop he would scoop up all his worms and take them to see the gargoyle. When the greetings were finished he would say “bye-bye” to the gargoyle and give him a hug. Back to the car the worms would go. Tanner would race down the path back to Grandma to procure a new group of worms to take on tour.

Houses today will be filled with Grandmothers, Mothers, Daughters, Mothers-in-laws, Daughter-in-laws and if we are lucky enough a few Great Grandmother’s to boot, Grandfathers, Fathers, Sons, Father-in-laws, Sons-in-laws and again if we are lucky enough a few Great Grandfather’s to boot.  We will sprinkle in some Aunts and Uncles, Cousins, Nieces and Nephews and some of us will add a dash of family friends.  Our houses will fill to the brim with the aroma of delicious holiday meals wafting from the kitchen (or take out containers as it may be).  The air will be filled with Holiday music, wrapping paper ripping, the occasional shrieking of a melting down two-year-old, the whining of a teenager who has been disconnected from the world at large by not being allowed to use their phone and the wailsome cry of the family cook as something that was supposed to be delicious was turned to ash by a momentary distraction caused by the first two issues.  Eyes will be rolling liberally in their sockets as older attendees tell someone the same story again because they forgot who all they have told, as parents ask teenagers to disengage from their phones and family couch surfers are asked to help set the table.  Squabbles over the temp of the meat will ensue in the kitchen and family rooms with be full of yelling at the football game.  Dinner tables will become the hotbed of discussions not allowed as a general rule in mixed company and if you are in the Allen household are always sure to devolve to the point of potty humor.  You are guaranteed one hurt feeling in each age group as someone wasn’t able to be the pink ranger, someone gave someone a gift that clearly was from a discount rack with dust still on the shoulders or a joint gift was labeled with the wrong person’s name first on the card.

We spend countless hours getting ready for this one-day event.  We shop until we drop, stress over each and every gift, wrap until our fingers bleed, travel absurd distances for the pleasure, stress over our attire lest we be judged harshly by that one fashionista that every family has and lecture our children and spouses on their expected behavior for fear of being “that” family member again this year.

But in spite of all the craziness and chaos, every year we fling open the doors of our homes and our hearts.   In return for our efforts we receive heartfelt hugs from family members near and far.  Laughter fills our hearts as we are regaled with the silly childhood stories of movies made and terrifying sledding adventures from years past.  We enjoy the memories of family members no longer with us and suck in the sweet new human smells from the family members who are just now joining us.  Our houses are filled with the wonderful unique sound that only our family can create.

From my house to yours—May the love you get today from your family and friends fill your heart to overflowing and last you for the whole year to come.

One of my super skills is being able to do the same thing over and over again without losing my enthusiasm.  This super skill comes in especially handy when dealing with little kids and frankly, as we found out, people with Alzheimer’s.  With my little Tan Man it has become a thing for us to sing a little “Dip, dip, dip” ditty when he is dipping his French fries into ketchup or tortilla chips into salsa.  When I put him down for a nap if I don’t start singing the Night-Night song soon enough he will raise his head from my shoulder look me square in the face and in a very serious Tanner ease say “Gammama—sing”.  We also have a routine of counting out his five animal crackers, placing them in a nice neat row just before he scoops one up and bites off its head—at which point it is my job to cry out “oh no, you ate his head” and its Tanner’s job to laugh hysterically before dramatically biting off the next cookie’s head and on we go for a full count of 5.

The other day we were watching the Predator’s hockey playoff game.  We had timed dinner so that we could set Tanner up in his high chair and keep him entertained by eating his dinner while Dave and I watched the game.  The first time two players collided against the side wall producing a loud crashing sound Tanner was less than impressed.  Being the ever-entertaining Grandma that I am, I immediately yelled “Boom” and clapped my hands.  My reward from Tanner was a huge smile replacing his scared face and an enthusiastic “Boom” with his little hands thrown into the air.  It was unbelievable but this 2-year-old boy became glued to the hockey game.  For the rest of the game Tanner watched intently, shouting out “Boom” and flinging his hands in the air every time two players smooshed themselves against the wall.

When the game was over I took Tanner upstairs to give him a bath.  In the tub is a wide array of bath toys but his two favorite this night were his dark green shark and a little green frog floating around in an brightly colored innertube.  Tanner spent the entire time it took for the bath water to become cold “’skating” his frog in one hand and his shark in the other over the top of the water.  He would “skate” them over to the side of the tub, then throw them together against the side of the tub sending water flying everywhere, yelling “Boom” and flinging his bubble covered hands into the air.  Then we would laugh hysterically until he retrieved his players and start the game again.

Ok, so maybe we need to go back to the less violent “Dip, dip, dip” game.

For all the Moms that are still deep in the trenches of diapers, bottles and wee hour of the morning feedings—don’t worry, it will get easier.

For all the Moms who are scooping screaming toddlers off the grocery store floor, learning the new language of “baby-ease”, trying to explain how stopping to making water in the potty is somehow better than just peeing your pants while you’re playing, teaching that food and toys are not for throwing, crayons are not for nostrils and dogs are not for riding—don’t worry, it will get easier.

For all the Moms out there squealing into the school pick-up line just in time to be the last parent there, who have found it necessary to develop a color coded google calendar to keep up with when to be at dance class, gymnastics, soft ball, baseball, basketball, chess club, debate team, band practice, orthodontist appointments, sleep overs and parent teacher meetings—don’t worry, it will get easier.

For all the Moms out there who are in the throws of dealing with a child that has just recently discovered their “Sass” gene and the teenager’s eye roll.  Who somehow overnight went from being their kids super hero to the dumbest person in the word with a fashion sense to match.  For the Mom who is trying to explain to their teenage boy that there are 7 days in a week and therefore it is only reasonable to expect 7 pairs of underwear and socks in his weekly laundry. Who is constantly reminding their teenage daughter how some outfits just have too little fabric to be considered outer wear.   For the Mom who sits in the passenger seat of the car petrified, stomping a hole in the floorboard where the brake should be.  Who is beside themselves with worry when they hand over the keys and are not the one sitting in the passenger seat.  For the Mom who feels like they have somehow become a covert agent with the CIA, analyzing their kids friends, deducing if they are going where they say, with who they say and what they may be doing between the here and the there and with whom.  For the Mom who is spending an inordinate amount of their time worrying about “the birds and the bees” and how to explain this phenomenon of nature to their wee ones—don’t worry, it will get easier.

For the Mom’s who have spent the last two decades of their lives raising their children and have finally tossed them out of the nest and into the world hoping and praying that they have taught them every survival skill necessary for them to succeed in the world.  For the Moms who lay awake at night hoping that their child gets the job or promotion at work, who cries in the night over her daughter’s miscarriage, who’s heart aches as they are forced to watch their children struggle with the day to day problems of being a grown adult knowing full well they cannot swoop in to save the day.  For the Mom who is walking on air at the announcement she will be a grandma—don’t worry….

Awe heck, who am I kidding.  Loving another human being with all your heart and soul NEVER gets easier.

Happy Mother’s Day Everyone!

I popped Tanner into one of the grocery carts with the steering wheels and buckled him in.  When we got to the automatic door I told Tanner, “beep beep and the door will open.”  To my surprise, Tanner slapped his tiny little hand against the center of the steering wheel and clear as a bell said “Beep Beep.”

We wound our way through the bakery narrowly escaping a head on collision with the cup cake display and cruised into the veggie section.  As we passed people I jokingly began saying to Tanner, “Say Beep Beep.”  Sure enough he immediately slapped his little hand against the steering wheel and would say “Beep Beep” in his cute little two year old voice.  As we weaved our way up and down the aisle Tanner began beeping and waving at everyone we passed.  Some people ignored us completely clearly thinking that if they didn’t engage the crazy it couldn’t jump onto them.  Some people had a great time playing along and were left in our wake with big smiles on their faces and just a little bit more bounce in their step.

As we made our last round through the dairy section we turned the corner and happened upon an elderly man all alone parked at the end of the aisle in a scooter.  Realizing this person was a kindred spirit Tanner very enthusiastically slapped his little hand against the steering wheel and loudly said “Beep Beep”.  We turned the corner down the bread aisle and all of a sudden I heard the high pitched whine of a scooter moving full tilt.  Just about the time I realized he was coming our way, the old man screeched up next to us and said “Hey buddy, you wanna race?”  So without missing a beat I began pushing Tanner faster down the aisle as the old man got his scooter zipping along.

Our fun ended abruptly when the old man’s wife came around the corner and yelled, “bad word, bad word—Earl!”  Like all true seasoned street racers, Tanner and I ducked down the nearest aisle in the opposite direction leaving poor Earl to talk his own way out of trouble with the grocery police.

The first time I ever thought about what my grandchildren would call me was when Jess became pregnant with Tanner.  There are so many really cute grandma nicknames out there like Bubbie, Bunny, Honey, Kiki, Lovie, Nana, Gammy, Gma, Mammie, Mama and the list goes on and on.   I would love to have a cute little nick name but frankly I feel like a nick name is something someone gives you, so when Tanner and Annika were born I decided to start with the root word common to the female parent of your parent and go with “Grandma” until the kids were old enough to decide for themselves.

Every time I see my two little love buckets, I try to get them to say “Grandma.”  I have spent countless hours whispering in their little ears “Say Grandma” and have yet to get more than a giggle in response.  Imagine my dismay when I took Tanner to pick David up from the airport and the little bird squealed in delight upon seeing David come down the escalator and immediately threw out his arms and called out “Grampa” clear as a bell.

In all honesty though, there have been a couple of near misses in the “Grandma” department.  One morning when I had driven to Tullahoma to pick Tanner up for his Grandma Day he popped his pacifier out of his mouth and clearly said “Gamma” is his sweet little sing song voice.  I was on top of the world and spent the whole day trying to get him to say it again.  But alas, this was a one and done kind of moment.

One afternoon this summer when we were in Phoenix, Annika began pounding her tray for more strawberries and very clearly saying “Na Na” in a somewhat deep and possessed voice.  Houston, we may have a winner.  But alas this very intent “Na Na” phase only lasted a few short days before it was replaced with more incoherent Annika babble.

I hit the Grandma lottery this summer, having both Tanner and Annika in Phoenix for a few days.  Finally it was my day to get them all to myself.  David was taking his two girls to the movies and out to dinner.  I was in Grandma heaven.  Late that evening when we were all three snuggled up on the couch getting ready for night-night, I tossed down the gauntlet.  “Whoever talks first gets to name me!”

Now the race is on.  Every day, Tanner and Annika are slowly moving from baby babble to people babble. I’m very excited to see who I’m going to be when they grow up.