Adventures in Bennionland

The boys have just left the house with my Mom. Off for another adventure, or “venture” as Walker calls them. They have both been sick this week, which also happens to be a week that Eric is gone on business. Eric’s in Vegas so don’t cry too much for him. It seems, along with the work week, that he is enjoying himself and having fun being exposed to a side of Vegas that we don’t usually see (mostly because I’m cheap).

We have had our own version of entertainment here at home. Last night both boys were up from about midnight until almost six. Which is tiring, but even more so when you add in the fact that my little natural alarm went off at 7:00am and wasn’t going to let me go back to sleep. It is moments like this that I feel gently reminded of why, among other reasons, I am glad to be here with my parents. That even though I could do, and have done, a week alone with the boys with no sleep, that I am glad to not have to. My Mom arrived home from school to tell me she was taking the boys for two hours. No ifs, ands, or buts.

I should be curled up in bed or on the couch to catch a few winks…and maybe I will do that in a while. Still I have felt compelled to hit the blog world. Plus I popped Pride & Prejudice in for a little Shelly-treat. Blogging and Jane Austen. It is so good it seems rather sinful.

Before I delve into the pictures on iPhoto and attempt to make some effort to catch up on the months and events I’ve missed I have to share one thing that is cracking me up. Each time the boys leave the house they make a thorough effort to say goodbye. I’m not sure where exactly this stems from – since none of the adults here take four minutes to say goodbye. Still, every time they leave it’s with great care to say farewell. Here is a recap of today’s act:

(my Mom has open the door and is standing with her keys – I’m putting WiWa together since they said most things in either echo or unison)

Me: Bye boys.
WiWa: Bye Mom. See you later.
Me: Ok.
Walker: We won’t be gone long ok Mom? Just a little while ok?
Me: Ok. Bye.
WiWa: Bye Mom. Have a good day.
Me: Ok, you too.
Will: We will. You have a nice time.
Me: Ok.
WiWa: Bye Mom.
(at this point my Mom is urging them to come out the door and I’m waving vigorously to urge them on)
WiWa: Hasta la vista.
Me: Hasta la vista.
WiWa: See you later alligator.
Me: Bye.
WiWa: After a while crocodile.
Me: Ok. Bye (trying not to keep them going)
WiWa: Au revoir.
Me: Bye
WiWa: Auf wiedersehen.
Me: Bye.
WiWa: Sayonara.
Me: Sayonara.
(they almost make it out the door, and then come running back)
Me: You gotta go boys. KK’s going to leave!
WiWa: Ok. We love you Mom. Bye.
Me: Bye
WiWa: Ok bye. Have a nice day.
Me: Ok.

And it continued. My Mom actually walked out of the house, closed the door, and they didn’t even notice. Finally I got up off the floor (I was cleaning up toys) and helped them on their way. I was laughing so hard I could barely contain myself. Sure enough, even from their seats in the car they were waving bye and yelling ‘Hasta la vista’.

(cross posted from The Life I Imagine)

Notes from the wall near the spa. Grandpa’s hand.

Most mornings at my grandparents house you’d find my Grandpa, Bob, enjoying the early morning in his spa. Built as an add-on to the house the spa room reminds me a lot of the house I lived in when I was a kid, if only because it has dark paneling. The lid to the spa itself is the covered in brown vinyl. It smells musty, and after the spa has been running it smells a little like a sauna. The spa came with the house and while I doubt it was a buying point for my Grandpa, it sure turned into a treat for him. Which made it a treat for all of us.

Some mornings, when I’d rise early enough, I’d find myself sitting in the kitchen eating Honeycomb, which was always on supply at their house, and listening to the soft sounds of my Grandpa singing from his spa. Now, you had to be careful. Grandpa sometimes treated himself to his spa time al fresco. Since the kitchen was adjacent to the spa room he’d come wandering in the room, still humming, with his towel around his waist. “You’re lucky Shellgirl. I remembered my towel this morning.” His skin was always so white and pruny. His gray-white hair would be swirled in different directions and it always made me wonder if he might have ben swimming out there, instead of soaking.

Then he’d walk through the house, finishing his song. He’d usually tease my Grandma by grabbing hold of her, twirl her around a little, and sing her a line. Always the same song. In the spa. In the hall. With her. Eddy Arnold’s Cattle Call. Silly and simple song.

And my Grandpa thought himself a silly, simple man. At least in the years I knew him best. The truth is, as usual, much more complex. A devoutely religious man my Grandpa had a quick wit, an active mind, and a sharp tongue. He once chastised me publicly during a discussion about parades and then marched out of the room in a successful move to end the conversation. I still have a mix of emotions when I think back on that moment. It stung like a slap.

Yet I couldn’t have asked for a better man to have in my life. Every child should be able to get love from whoever is willing to give it and my grandparents shared it with us in large doses. Mediated of course by smaller doses of life lessons and discipline. Some people are lucky enough to have two sets of grandparents who love and treasure them – at least in some version. My Dad’s parents never played a large part in our life. Mostly because my Dad’s Mom died when I was young. And because my Dad was never close to his Dad. It made us even more fortunate that my grandparents were willing to love us and share their life. Add to that the close proximity in which we lived for the first 14 years of my life, until they move out of state.

I realize that my relationship with my grandparents is not the same one that everyone has with their own grandparents. And that even within my own family there is disconnect and discontent. I cannot control that though, even though I’ve tried for years. Grandpa knew about it and it weighed heavily on his heart. In his own way he tried to love everyone. I know it wasn’t easy for everyone to see past his expression of religion, or his stout opinions. Trust me, I know. Still, you knew what to expect.

You knew to expect the cattle call in the morning. You knew to expect that he’d offer you strange conglomerations of juice. You knew he’d offer a sharp retort to something you said but then always squeeze you extra tight when you left.

And you knew, at least I did, that when he left it would be life changing.

Happy Birthday Grandpa. I know you are happy wherever you are. Just wish you were here still.

Will, calling me from the bathroom: “Mom, come see me wipe!! Mom? Mom?!? You need to come see me wipe!”

Yes, that is how my day began. I hope it is not a sign of how the whole day will be.

(BTW – I am actually scheduling a low-key day, yeah, can you believe it? This way I can spend some time getting some posts up that I really want to do! More to come later. As long as I can break away from the wiping show.)

*image from Apartment Therapy. One of my all-time favorite sites.*