Spring break and a full quiver

Dan and I have been grandparents-in-training for several years. I doubt that he’s made any colossal mistakes along the way like I have.

Three grandkids missing from this photo

There was the time during widowhood that I stayed with my grandkids for a few days while The Parents escaped town to celebrate an anniversary.

I thought it would be fun to take on a few activities that ‘weren’t allowed.’

“Are you allowed to eat in the van?” I asked … because, you know, there are six of them and that could add up to some serious spills and trash.

“No,” they answered in chorus.

And so we packed a dinner of sandwiches, apple slices, and granola bars, and parked after dark across from a business that had decorated its large building and yard with Christmas lights. We tuned to the correct radio station, and while watching the lights dance to the rhythm of the music, we ate our illegal dinner and danced along with the lights.

And of course, these “not allowed” activities were the first things the kids blabbed about as The Parents walked in the door. (Thanks for having my back, kiddos.)

Here’s where I went wrong with that scenario: I hadn’t thought that while the older, biological grandkids would understand the silliness of what we were doing and that it’s important to obey their parents at all times, the three adopted grandsons, newly arrived from Uganda, wouldn’t understand. I was unwittingly supporting the principle of disobedience. So sorry, Parents.

But I’d like to think there were some things I got right. Like memory-making. There were wheel-barrow rides, bedtime stories, and gingerbread house construction. There were long Monopoly games, chai latte dates, and leaf-raking expeditions (which may or may not have involved grandkids getting dumped into piles of leaves).

Quiversful

There’s an ancient psalm, written by King Solomon, that reads like this:

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.

– Psalm 127:3-5

My grandkid’s first fun, teasing, mischievous grandpa died of cancer, and after a handful of years, I remarried. Which gave the grands a second fun, teasing, mischievous grandpa.

Now together, Dan and I have a full quiver of offspring.

And the memory-making Continues. Camping, letting them make gigantic pancakes, kayaking, hiking, and tubing (with Grandpa Dan’s goal to dunk as many grandkids into the lake as possible, because, like he says, “We have more”).

The Littles

We just spent the full week of spring break hosting kids and grands. Dan’s daughter and son-in-law with their two Littles—ages 1 and 5—were here for the first half of the week.

We pushed a trail jogging stroller so the baby girl could take morning trail naps while the 5-year-old climbed every large rock and fallen tree, explored every cave, and dipped his shoes into the snow-fed river. 

There was Lego assembly and much train-track-building, complete with train crashes.

And a monster-truck-crashing game in which the 5-year-old kept changing the rules. Midstream. To his benefit.

Once, when he said, “On your mark, set, go,” Grandpa Dan raced his car to the finish line, tackling the 5-year-old in the process. He Who Changes Rules Midstream cried, “Cheater!” (Isn’t that sorta like the pot calling the kettle black?)

The Teens

And then half-way through spring break week, my daughter, son-in-law, and two of their six kids—boys, ages 14 and 16—arrived.

We took the teens hiking up and over Misery Ridge at Smith Rock.

They rode bikes on the trail behind our house. And we walked them the long way around the river trail and into the Old Mill District to sip beverages in the sunshine outside the coffee shop.

We played games of Spades, and baked cookies, and took them to a Marvel Captain America afternoon matinee (because they didn’t want to see Snow White).

The full week contained much memory-making, and we are grateful for every outdoor activity, every game, every conversation.

Clearer vision

I like how this author described grandparent-hood:

A grandparent is a little bit parent, a little bit teacher, and a little bit best friend.

— Unknown

It seems that as we’ve aged into grandparenthood, our vision has cleared up and we see that some of the rules we had for our own kids weren’t really all that important. And—while being cognizant that sometimes our shenanigans can potentially teach the grandkiddos something other than what we intended—still, Dan and I can relax and enjoy them, and play with them, and make some epic memories with them.

And we can spoil them. Because we’re the grandparents of a full quiver!