Breaking Records

It's too bad the Guinness World Records people were not here in the lake area last week to observe the phenomenon of record breaking in action. I can't help thinking even they would have been impressed. I say this because, for a glorious stretch of eight days, all seven grandkids were here at one time or another--and sometimes all at once. It is an understatement to call it a super-busy time at Googie's.

Because of the Covid-19 pandemic, our summer adventures have a unusual feel and demand a revamped routine. There are no daily trips to kids' enrichment camps or courses at our nearby college. There will be no carnival ride wristbands for the Missouri State Fair. No corn dogs or funnel cakes or snow cones either, and no visit to Otto, the talking patrol car. Virtually every event of our typical summer is cancelled or drastically modified.

And that is okay, because we have the lake. With the exception of baby Packee, the kids are just the right ages to enjoy swimming, tubing, fishing, and all the other activities our lake offers. They can walk along the Osage River down at the harbor and venture out across the swinging bridge toward any of several scenic hiking trails there. Before the summer is over, we hope to have a couple new water skiers in the family.

When four to five children between ages eight and thirteen stay with you day and night for a week, this is when the aforementioned record breaking occurs. Among new records established in our household last week were the following:

• Sheer amount of food consumption
• Number of trips to Walmart grocery pickup
• Rolls of toilet paper used
• Number of consecutive late nights spent watching Perry Mason
• Number of consecutive nights Googie sang "Little White Duck" at bedtime (Will I still be doing this when all of them are teenagers?)
• Number of wet towels on the floor of the laundry room
• Loads of laundry washed, dried, and folded
• Number of (very) ripe bananas converted into banana bread in a single evening.

Aided by the uncertainties and negative effects posed by the virus, I seem to have set a couple records of my own. For instance, this is my first post in "Googie's Attic" since March 25, nearly four months ago. That is my longest dry spell since I began the blog in March 2011. Most unforgivable, however, is the fact that Zoomie's eighth and Sooby's thirteenth birthdays scooted by on June 25 and 30 with no acknowledgment. Pa-pa and I were at their house for the celebrations, but I just didn't get around to recording them here. I will do my best to make up for that here and how. 

Thirteen, Sooby? How can that be? When I started the blog nine years ago, you were only four. At some point between then and now, you grew into a young lady who plays piano and cello, loves to bake, and is among seventeen finalists qualifying for the Kansas state champion spelling bee next weekend. You are an artistic and creative force to be reckoned with, Sooby, and whatever form eighth grade takes for you this fall, Pa-pa and I are sure you will rock it.

And you, Zoomie. You held the spot as the youngest kid in your family for over seven years, but you have relinquished that position with grace and (most of the time) maturity. You are old enough to entertain us with your jokes and antics, but not too old (yet) to give us some good snuggles. You have mastered the task of dealing with your allergies to dairy and tree nuts like a trooper, accepting that your brothers and sisters can sometimes have treats that you can't. Pa-pa and I can't wait to see what new things you learn in third grade.

Here you are about to open the present you asked me for several months ago. You may be the only eight-year-old in the Midwest to have his own . . . poker set. I imagine that you and your brother Pooh will be practicing the techniques needed to hold 'em, fold 'em, and do a fair amount of bluffing in the process.

As this record-breaking summer of 2020 continues to challenge us at every turn, I am reminded constantly that the closeness of our family makes it bearable. I have only to look at seven little faces to know that, in spite of it all, I am truly blessed.   

  

 

 

Sabotaged by a Monster

When baby Packee was born last fall, I had such plans.  I was going to be there for all those monthly baby milestones--the turning over, the giggling, the sitting up. I was going to see him often and use him as an excuse to spend more time with his brothers and sisters as well.

Packee arrived after a six-year lull in grandkid production. Since he might be the last one, I was going to pinch those fat thighs to my heart's content and once more perform my entire repertoire of silly noises. I would kiss those chubby cheeks and feel the sweet weight of that little head on my shoulder while he slept.

The first four months of my plan went by the playbook. But when I waved goodbye to him on Feb. 1, who would have dreamed it would be months before I would see him again? Worse yet, I don't know how many of these precious months this long wait will stretch out to consume. The monster COVID-19 has changed not only plans but normal daily routine.

That is all the whining I am going to do. I look around and see others affected so much more adversely than is this old lady who just wants to snuggle a grandbaby. Thousands of people are sick, and medical responders are caught up in a rat race. High school seniors are missing those last spring activities, and even graduation ceremonies look uncertain. Weddings and funerals, the rituals of life itself, are on hold. Senior adults in care facilities can't see their families. For many, this pandemic is so much more than a mere inconvenience.

But today, in the midst of all of this, I celebrate the day Packee turns six months old. The highlight of my day is when my daughter texts me pictures like these:

  

I like to think that, in this last one, the reason Packee looks so serious is because he is wondering where his Googie is. Thankfully, he is too little to know about monsters.

I am here, sweet baby, just waiting for the monster to relent so I can come see you again. Until then, stay healthy,  practice your skills of self defense, and warn your brothers and sisters. There are a lot of pent-up squeezes around here just waiting to be released.