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What did your parents do with your old room?
Out of the blue, my father gave me a few rolled-up posters last year. There was a "Top Gun" movie poster, one with various members of Led Zeppelin jamming in concert and others featuring 49ers and Warriors -- all of which hung on my bedroom walls when I was in high school. I was disappointed only that my Sylvester Stallone "Cobra" movie poster wasn't there. I would have loved to have framed that for my office.
the-bed-shop.com
Time to move on?
These posters were removed, I suspect, about five minutes after I headed for the dorms at Cal Poly-San Luis Obispo in the summer of 1988. All I know is that my room was completely gutted when I was gone, repainted and refurnished with a sewing machine, floral curtains and girly valances.
I called it "The Laura Ashley Room," and viewed it as a gentle reminder: You don't really live here any more.
By my observation, there are basically two kinds of parents: 1. The ones who keep their children's bedrooms intact, preserving every fifth place swimming trophy and INXS poster as a shrine to be enjoyed by future generations; and 2. Parents who are ripping the pennants and Tiger Beat covers off the walls before their kids have even left the driveway for college. Please share what kinds of parents you had in the comments ...
Read More 'What did your parents do with your old room?' »| June 18 2010 at 03:36 PM
Remembering your parents -- and how your kids will remember you
When I took psychology in college, the professor gave the class an unusual assignment. He handed out a recipe for bread -- the kind with yeast that must rise before baking, not some easy banana bread you just throw in a pan -- and told each student to go home and bake it and bring back the results. This was mandatory, not optional.
myrecipes.com
The recipe for a valuable lesson ...
His reasoning? He said he wanted the whole class to know how to bake bread, so that one day they could bake it when they had children. He explained that the smell of baking bread is so evocative for people, that it triggers memories of home and hearth and family. "You watch," he said. "When it's baking in your apartment near campus, people walking by, the meter reader, the mailman, whoever, will smell that smell and recall their mother or grandmother in the kitchen and begin to tell stories of them."
I thought the professor was kind of a kook, and at 18, I was years away from even thinking about having kids. My bread turned out to have the density, weight and edibility of a brick. But I've never forgotten his lesson. And often think of it when I think of the notion that a parent can plant memories the way one might plant vegetable seeds: to be harvested later.
A friend uses a different metaphor, a financial one. She told me when our kids were in preschool together that all the experiences she provided for her kids, from holidays at their cousins' house to visits to museums to family days at the beach to trips abroad, were "like money in the bank." You never know what they're going to need down the line, but those reserves of love and closeness, experience and exposure were there for them to draw on as they grew up. Read More 'Remembering your parents -- and how your kids will remember you' »
| February 08 2010 at 03:20 PM
Do TV shows remind you of relatives who are gone?
When other people want to remember their great-grandmothers, I suspect they find pictures of her in a photo album, or look at a family heirloom. I have neither, so I go to YouTube and play the "Fantasy Island" opening credits.
I really only have two strong memories of my great-grandmother, who died before I reached my teens. I remember visiting her at a small apartment near our home, and she kindly waved a small bottle containing some of her medication at me. "Honey, don't eat any of these," she said, still with a strong accent after immigrating from Mexico 50 years earlier. "They're not M&Ms;!" I was 7 or 8 at the time, well past the age of downing other people's random medication, but I nodded politely.
A few years later, all of the adults in my family met at our dining room table, I was given some quarters to play at the local arcade, and not long after she was in a nice assisted living center in South San Francisco. Then came my second memory of her -- actually a series of memories all jammed together. My father and I, and sometimes my mother and sister, would visit her on Friday nights. "The Dukes of Hazzard" was usually playing in the background, we would talk and play cards and then "Fantasy Island" would come on. We never stayed long past the opening theme, which was OK, because I found the plots kind of boring. (It wasn't until more than a decade later that I watched an entire "Fantasy Island.") But I'll always think of her when I hear that music.
Read More 'Do TV shows remind you of relatives who are gone?' »| October 16 2009 at 07:22 AM
Everything tastes better at grandma's
Earlier in the summer, we were sitting around the coffee table plotting out things to do in New York when we went to stay with my husband's parents at their apartment in Midtown. We've been there so many times over the years, we were aiming to do things we'd never done with the kids before. While my husband and I were discussing the relative merits of the Guggenheim and the Whitney, "Hair" vs. "Billy Elliot" and Chelsea vs. Brooklyn, our teenage daughter, Hayley, asked excitedly, "Do we get to have cheese and crackers at Papa and Kathleen's? I love that!"
twohotpeppers.com
More than just a plate of cheese and crackers ...
I was startled by her enthusiasm for something that's fully available at our house. It may not be a daily ritual, but the supplies are always in the larder, and we habitually put out cheese and crackers when friends come over, and often have them on the kitchen counter while we're preparing dinner at home with the family. But in Hayley's mind, this was an indescribably delicious combination found only on visits to her grandfather and step-grandmother. It's true that Kathleen pairs the cheese with ultra-thin Japanese crackers we don't buy at home. And she serves it with her special Tat Tea, a summery combination of tea, orange juice and mint, a recipe she got from her late friend Katherine H.W. Swift, known as Tat.
But Hayley's memory is enriched by the unique setting: Papa, the former foreign correspondent and lifelong journalist sitting in his rocking chair perusing one of the five newspapers he reads per day while simultaneously watching the evening news and recounting the triumphs and frustrations of the latest Yankee game; Kathleen, a retired copy editor, tabby cat in lap, talking about their latest trip or the latest grammatical error to shockingly slip through the copy desk at the New York Times.
Hayley's comment got me thinking about a basic truth for kids: Everything tastes better at Grandma's. Read More 'Everything tastes better at grandma's ' »
| August 10 2009 at 11:16 AM
Granny vs. Nanny
I think it's cool that the Obama girls' grandma is moving with them to Washington, possibly even into the White House itself. According to a story that appeared in the New York Times earlier this month, Marian Robinson, Michelle Obama's mother, a widow and retired bank secretary, was the chief caretaker of Malia, 10, and Sasha, 7, when their mother would be called away to the campaign trail. "They are extremely close to their grandmother," family friend Sandra Matthews told the Times. "That's why Michelle has been able, with the ease and peace of mind, to be gone." Mrs. Obama would like to have that same peace of mind in her hectic new Washington life, as well.
daylife.com
First Granny Marian Robinson, left, will be in sharper focus in the White House.
My mother's mother lived with my family from the time I was 4 till I was 14. So, like the Obama girls, my older sister and I had Granny instead of a nanny, or even a babysitter. But besides watching us when our parents were out, she made a huge contribution to raising us. When we were little she gave us our baths -- I can still remember her bony fingers and ruthless scrubbing with the wash cloth. And she often handled the school drop offs and pickups. She took us clothing shopping and, being a widow of means, contributed generously to our family's big-ticket items, including school tuition and a swimming pool. She was also a great cook, and I learned at her knee.
She had been the wife of a steel company executive in Evanston, Ill., and her formal dress and elegant bearing was in sharp contrast to our casual Southern California lifestyle, where my mother wore shorts or sun dresses most of the year and I went barefoot all summer. She wasn't warm and fuzzy, but she showed her love by being there for us. Read More 'Granny vs. Nanny' »
| November 17 2008 at 03:49 PM
My son, the chick magnet
I've gotta give him credit for boldness: my 68-year-old father-in-law (FIL) uses my son as a way to meet ladies of all ages. All he needs is a stroller or high chair and my son, and he's good to go. Maybe we should add The Flirt as a Type 5 Grandparent to Kelly Mills's grandparent category?
lgbtees.com
My FIL even announced his intentions before an outing this weekend by saying, "Come on, Cip! Let's go see meet some girls!" I am for the most part amused and happy to see my FIL trying to get some flirting in. Ditto for my husband. He knows his Dad's been widowed for many years, and could likely (okay, definitely) benefit from female companionship.
Cip seems willing to act the part of cute toddler by smiling and flirting with the various females they encounter together. I haven't seen a female reject or ignore Cip's smiles yet, but one maintained a semi-frozen smile when responding to my FIL. Waitresses (or servers, if you must be PC) have little or no escape. This is especially true at one spot. Chava's is one of our favorite neighborhood restaurants because the food and salsa are tasty, and the portions are filling and relatively inexpensive. Although he says the food reminds him of Mexico, I suspect my FIL also appreciates how attractive the servers are at Chava's. It's inevitable that he'll joke and make small talk with the server, and discuss with me how much "she likes Cip!" in between visits. Cip tends to respond by lifting and throwing tortilla everywhere, while I sip my horchata. Read More 'My son, the chick magnet' »
| September 25 2008 at 04:26 PM
Deja Poop: The four types of grandparents
This post by Kelly Mills is one of my all-time favorites. It's only 13 months old, but still really funny even if you've read it before. Originally published on July 24, 2007. --Peter
Check out the child development section of the bookstore and you'll get very quickly that there's about a hundred thousand different parenting philosophies: attachment parenting, positive discipline, spare the rod, and so on. But I've also noticed there's some pretty distinct grandparenting schools of thought as well.
imdb.com
Type 2: "Grandchildren should be neither seen nor heard."
We are super lucky -- my kid has a good relationship with all seven of her grandparents. But as I talk to friends, I've found this isn't always the case, and sometimes the older generation presents some challenges of their own. A few of the more common grandparenting types:
Type 1: Spoils the grandkids like crazy.
Mantra: "You got dressed all by yourself? Good girl! Here's twenty dollars so you can buy some candy."
I don't care if they were the strictest, stingiest parents in the world: now that they are grandparents, they have only time and love to give. These are the grandparents who just dote. When you were growing up, you had to mow the neighbor's lawn to get enough money to buy a freakin' squirt gun because "you needed to learn the value of an honest day's work," but now that same tough parent has become the grandparent who believes your kid really needs a pony. They never arrive for a visit without a gift or twelve, and every outing involves an amusement park or parade or something utterly cool. There's very little room for discipline or boundaries, but pretty much a bottomless supply of hot fudge sundaes. You look like a really mean person by comparison, and your kid will probably love these grandparents more than he or she loves you.
Pro: Your kid will beg to visit them. Con: Your child is no fool, and he will save his brattiest moments for you when Grandpa drops him off, crashing from sugar and an afternoon of instant gratification. Read More 'Deja Poop: The four types of grandparents' »
| August 28 2008 at 08:32 AM
Granny manual
Immediately after attending my baby shower, my mom told me repeatedly that I needed to write or give her a guide on terminology of "all this new baby stuff." I would have e-mailed her a refresher link, but she's still getting the hang of using a computer. She and her friends had never heard the term "onesie," and thought it was weird that none of my friends used the word "booties" when describing baby socks. Trying to explain what Robeez were only exacerbated the problem. Thus the pattern was set: my chance to be a somewhat unwilling teacher of the updated parenting ways began. Poop readers, feel free to contribute grandparent (or other older family member) gems in the comments.
3hcraftworks.com
"He's not gassy ..."
I knew Mom was a little um, outdated, the day we came home from the hospital with the baby. I left the living room to help my husband in the kitchen. When I returned, I found the baby lying face down in his bassinet. Face down! Freak out-yikes-and-yowsers time, right? In a rushed, slightly crazed voice, I told her, "Oh nonononono! He could DIE of Sudden Infant Death syndrome that way, Mom." I don't know if she knew what Sudden Infant Death syndrome meant or not.
Mom tensed up a bit and told me, "Well, that's how we used to do it." Maybe you've heard this line before, maybe not. Either way, you can guess how much fun it is to hear it.
We had another instructional moment when she gave me some advice on how to feed my son. "I would add a little honey to the fruit and yogurt. That way, it's sweet enough for him."
"Oh Mom, he can't have honey 'til he's one!" I said. "Botulism," I stage whispered. I'm not trying to be a drama queen or make things uncomfortable. Really.
Read More 'Granny manual' »| May 29 2008 at 09:42 AM
Are you turning into your parents?
There's absolutely nothing wrong with my parents. We had our trials, but they never failed to feed, clothe and entertain me -- while making sure I got a good education. Perhaps most importantly, they were nurturing, but kicked my ass (figuratively speaking) just enough so that I never got into serious trouble or made idiotic life decisions. (Thanks for stopping me from joining the Marines, mom! The Gulf War would have sucked!)
nwt.literacy.ca
"'When you comin' home, son?' 'I don't know when.' 'We'll have some leftovers then, son. And we'll listen to some Huey Lewis then.'"
For everything they did right, though, I never pictured myself becoming just like them. My father is the youngest of 10, born during The Great Depression. He knows how to fix things and made a living teaching physics and math. I, by contrast, grew up during the let's-buy-two-of-everything Reagan years and only knew how to break things. I never got better than a C+ in math, and it was clear even at a young age that I was probably going to make my living writing horribly self-referential columns about my favorite "Star Wars" characters.
Then a weird thing happened two years ago, beginning a few days after my son was born. I started turning into my parents any way. Here are a few of the more alarming characteristics that I've developed, most of which are exactly like my parents. To set the right mood, please hum Harry Chapin's "Cats in the Cradle" as you read the next part ... Read More 'Are you turning into your parents?' »
| September 05 2007 at 08:43 AM
The four types of challenging grandparents
Check out the child development section of the bookstore and you'll get very quickly that there's about a hundred thousand different parenting philosophies: attachment parenting, positive discipline, spare the rod, and so on. But I've also noticed there's some pretty distinct grandparenting schools of thought as well.
imdb.com
Type 2: "Grandchildren should be neither seen nor heard."
We are super lucky -- my kid has a good relationship with all seven of her grandparents. But as I talk to friends, I've found this isn't always the case, and sometimes the older generation presents some challenges of their own. A few of the more common grandparenting types:
Type 1: Spoils the grandkids like crazy.
Mantra: "You got dressed all by yourself? Good girl! Here's twenty dollars so you can buy some candy."
I don't care if they were the strictest, stingiest parents in the world: now that they are grandparents, they have only time and love to give. These are the grandparents who just dote. When you were growing up, you had to mow the neighbor's lawn to get enough money to buy a freakin' squirt gun because "you needed to learn the value of an honest day's work," but now that same tough parent has become the grandparent who believes your kid really needs a pony. They never arrive for a visit without a gift or twelve, and every outing involves an amusement park or parade or something utterly cool. There's very little room for discipline or boundaries, but pretty much a bottomless supply of hot fudge sundaes. You look like a really mean person by comparison, and your kid will probably love these grandparents more than he or she loves you. Pro: Your kid will beg to visit them. Con: Your child is no fool, and he will save his brattiest moments for you when Grandpa drops him off, crashing from sugar and an afternoon of instant gratification.
Read More 'The four types of challenging grandparents' »| July 24 2007 at 04:30 PM
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