Friday, February 24, 2012

Perfection

The other day I was working out a recipe for an aromatherapy "Calm Down" blend for the book and it got me thinking about how grandkids aren't always perfect or even fun to be around. This is a hard thing to admit. I've rarely heard a grandparent say "I love 'em, but those kids were wild monsters the last time they were here and I couldn't wait for their parents to come home."

Of course, grandparents aren't always that fun to hang out with either. Sometimes we're tired and grouchy or secretly resentful that we cancelled our kayaking weekend to babysit. Sometimes we snap, raise our voices, have moments of impatience that make us feel immediately ashamed.

You don't see those pictures in the brag book, the ones with Grandma's hair all disheveled and the house torn up -- Grandpa on his hands and knees cleaning some sort of hazardous waste from the carpet that everyone knows is going to leave a stain that will NEVER EVER come out of there.

Grandma with her mouth screwed wide open screaming "Get down from there!" for the millionth time or Grandpa with his clamped shut just trying not blast a string of obsenities out the back door.

No, those are the pictures we Grandparents lock up in our minds' eyes because they remind us too much of parenting. Too real and tired and too this is why I can't have nice things in the house.

Maybe we don't talk about the bad parts because we understand how quickly it all passes -- the unpleasantness as well as the pleasures. We know that in about five minutes our grandchildren will be teenagers and might not want to come to our house for a weekend anymore. Won't ask us to howl at the moon or play Candyland. So we suck it up, snuggle on the couch and watch their favorite video with them for the tenth time and invest in the best carpet cleaner money can buy.

They're worth it. Little angels.

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