Groovy Granny

are you a baby boomer granny?

We're the generation that demanded change! We're young (!), vibrant and radical. We've perhaps been earth mothers, hippies and/or political activists, and have developed into super cool mature adults. We're also the new generation of grandparents.

Now I don't know about you, but my brain pops up a picture of a granny who is very definitely old, hair held securely in a net, long baggy knickers (handy for tucking a hankie in the leg, as I recall!) and a great big pinny that wrapped round her twice. I think I've morphed both my grandmothers into one, but suspect this image will be familiar to many other baby boomers.

gendered playtime

Friends and colleagues know that I am incensed by the increasingly overt gender-stereotyping going on out there in relation to babies and children. It seems to me to be way, way worse than it ever was when my children were wee.

Talk of 'real boys' and 'proper little girls' drives me up the wall, partly because of the 'what if they are NOT like that?' question which is never addressed. Anyway, more about that later, perhaps! ;)

For now, I came across this at the 'f word' contemporary UK feminism site. Interesting article, and the debate which follows is likewise.

taking his time

My boy has extraordinary focus. No I'm not just bragging, it's true. People remark on it all the time. He'll get involved in a toy, or an activity and he'll be there for 20 minutes utterly involved, concentrating his teeny socks off.

He was like it when he was a little baby. He'd stare for ages at Dave playing the piano - no smile, just staring, taking it all in. He seems to have to process things quite slowly, which, given I'm a 'knee-jerk-reaction, oh-no-I-got-it-wrong' kind of person, I'm delighted with! It plays itself out with the whole concentration/focus thing, but also he needs time to think things through.

The other day he was visiting with his uncle whilst his mummy had a job interview. He loves to see me and has been known to be distraught if a visit is cut short or, worst of all, he sees me in the street and I can't hang about to chat. So, when eventually I said it was time to say goodbye to granny he snuggled up and gave me a long, quiet cuddle. To encourage him along I suggested a kiss goodbye. 'No' he said, tucking his head into my neck again. 'It's time to say bye bye to granny and go in Uncle Dunc's car now' I tried again. This time, with a very serious face, he climbed down and headed for the door. 'Could granny have a kiss', I asked again. 'No'. Then, a few seconds later he stopped in his tracks, stayed still for a moment, then turned round and came over to me. My son thought we were going to have problems getting him out of the house, but no, Oli just wanted to give his granny a kiss and then he set off happily, hand in hand with his uncle.

I love this aspect of his nature. He's a gentle child and is clearly thoughtful, and deliberate in his actions. What a wonderful recipe for a man-to-be!

Puddle fun

Oli and his best friend, plus best friend’s daddy have fun on a rainy afternoon.

hammond horror ;)

granny-led eating

Oli was weaned on whole, cooked vegetable pieces. Baby-led weaning it’s called and he took to it with ease.

All was well for many months until he discovered two delicious things – pasta and pie. ‘Pie’ is one of his first words. He says it slowly and with a distinct rise at the end, a question implicit, ‘is there pie?’.

My Oli-day is Friday and over recent weeks he has been turning his nose up at the veg and fruit I offer him, whilst constantly demanding the wrong kind of carbs: ‘kikik’ (biscuit), ‘chups’ (spaghetti hoops) and of course ‘pie’.

Knowing that at his other Grandma’s house he is, in their words, a ‘fruit monkey’, I figured we had a cheeky little, location-specific, habit developing. Crafty action was called for and so, last week, I bought some lovely, sweet grapes and put them in a bowl. I offered him one, and he responded with a shake of his head. So I suggested he feed me with them. This was a much better idea as far as he was concerned and he gleefully posted them into my mouth for several minutes, cackling as I made much of enjoying them. Suddenly, almost accidentally, he popped one into his own mouth. He bit on it, then remembered what he was doing and quickly spat it out with an expression of distaste. A pause as he considered the deliciousness of what he had just inadvertently tasted. Yummy! Within seconds his cheeks were bulging with grapes. Result!

Since drafting this post I've discovered that ‘cake’ has now entered his vocabulary. I'd better get down to the greengrocer's sharpish!

a suitable gift for a boy

Our boy is two next month and the planning is under way. Last week I took delivery of one of our pressies - a wooden doll's house. He always plays with one of these at a friend's house and also at nursery, so it feels like a good choice. Of course, there's the inevitable sexist twaddle to content with, 'a delight for any little girl' it says on the ad, but we're made of stern stuff and will not be bullied into gender-stereotyped compliance! Of course, it could all go belly up if he eschews our present in favour of a 'real little boy' toy. That would be an embarrassing moment  for his granny (me, in case you've forgotten) who is forever banging on about this particular issue.

Anyway, it arrived as a flat-pack and yesterday I had much fun assembling it. There is lots of furniture but no people so E has offered to get a set of little dolls to make it complete. Dolls? Lawks a mercy! Presumably, him being a boy and all, he'll shoot them out of the end of a spud gun.

boyz just wanna have fun - the video

friday boyz

Though Dave and I are in our 50s, we have friends across the age spectrum. A lot of our local friends are in their 30s and early 40s and, a few years ago, started producing young. We began to question whether we'd really want to keep holidaying with these companions, with whom we had shared many a blissful sun-soaked hour (well, wine-soaked actually) and realised that nights out would be babysitter-dependent. We felt we'd 'been there done that'. It was a minor concern, but something we'd noticed.

Then, my youngest, bless 'er, became pregnant and, it transpired, the baby's birth would coincide with that of four other new sprogs in our friendship group. Problem solved! Or rather partly solved, the babysitter thing is ongoing but now, every Friday we have 'Friday Boyz' - a gathering of between two and five toddlers (one of them actually is a big girl of almost four). It's the day I look after the wee one and it's the highlight of the week. What's more, in July, we're bundling them all to the Dales, adding in a couple more and having a two-night camping experience. I think that might prove fruitful in blogging terms!

three boyz and one piano

My grandson, his friend and my partner have a blast.

a sleepover

The boy came to stay the other night. It was the first time as, up to a few weeks ago, he was still having an early morning breastfeeed. I was very much looking forward to this important ‘first’, excited, yet with a few butterflies. I was also a little concerned as my partner was going to be out until early evening with an early start the next day and he needed a rested brain for a challenging presentation. Whereas normally he’d be up for pacing the floor, on this occasion the pressure was on to make sure he got a good night’s sleep.
The baby is a jolly little chap as a rule, but guess what, he was teething! Fab. Drooling for his country, big red apple of a right cheek and chewing like crazy on anything he could get in his mouth.