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.

Beenie's Birthday Puzzles

Question: What does the Rubik's Cube have in common with the coronavirus?

Answer: They have both been major shaping forces in the celebration of Beenie's birthday.

At first glance, this photo might look like any typical boy getting ready to blow out eight candles atop the red velvet cake his mama made (at his request).

But a closer look at the circumstances surrounding Beenie's eighth birthday reveals more unusual goings-on than meet the eye.

In recent weeks Beenie has been obsessed with the Rubik's Cube, to the point that YouTube videos showing solutions to the famous puzzle top his list of TV-watching preferences. He works patiently and relentlessly to figure out the standard 3 x 3 cube he already has, and has achieved solid color on two sides. His birthday brought him an assortment of other Rubik's-style puzzles, including a 2 x 2 and a triangular variation. The t-shirt Pa-pa and I contributed to his birthday stash says it all: "I make it look easy."

 
Interestingly, the Rubik's Cube is anything but easy. George Webster, writing for CNN in "The Little Cube That Changed the World," asserts that the various turns and twists of the puzzle offer 43 quintillion possible combinations. As a non-math person, I had to look up the term "quintillion." It is a thousand raised to the power of six, times ten to the eighteenth power. Now you know.

Even Erno Rubik, the puzzle's Hungarian inventor, took a month trying to figure out the solution after he concocted the rotating Cube from rubber bands and wood blocks. Intending it solely as a visual aid for his students in interior design, he never meant to create what some call the most popular toy in the world, selling more than 350 million since it was first mass-marketed in the early 1980's.

That was over forty years ago, before Pa-pa and I were even married. We celebrated our thirty-ninth anniversary on March 20, which is also Beenie's birthday. And, unlike most of his and his brother Heero's past birthday celebrations, this one was very small, consisting of only his immediate family and two sets of grandparents. No bounce house. No trip to Chuck E. Cheese. No lively gathering of fellow second-graders.

This is because Beenie's eighth birthday fell victim to the coronavirus and its current restrictions on large-group gatherings. As the number of positive cases continues to escalate daily, the virus is proving to be a puzzle of sorts itself. The countries of the world, like cubes of wood on a common axis, restructure data daily, turning and twisting to try to solve the puzzle the coronavirus imposes. We walk here on new ground. The game plan changes things.

Beenie and the other six grandkids remain insulated from the effects, implications, and what-ifs associated with the coronavirus pandemic of 2020. They are as safe as possible in the homes of caring parents who look out for their health, happiness, and safe-keeping. I am thankful beyond measure for these families, and I look forward to the day we are all together again with this outbreak behind us.

Until then, Beenie Boy, keep working at that Cube. Watch those experts, especially that guy with the record of 3.47 seconds. You might grow up to invent something spectacular or solve some bigger puzzle. Our world will always need people like you.
 

02-02-2020

Look at those numerals. Those eight digits, made entirely of 2's and 0's, form a palindrome reading the same forward and backward. How unusual is that? How fortuitous? How can a date like that bring anything other than memorable and amazing things?

It can't.

Last Sunday was destined for greatness in at least three ways, which I enumerate here from least to most important:

1. Punxsutawney Phil, the weather-predicting groundhog, did not see his shadow this year, thus predicting an early spring. On the typical 02-02, this hairy little meteorologist from Pennsylvania shows no sympathy for those of us suffering the usual icy, snowy Midwest winter. For whatever reason, he took pity on us and, if he did see his shadow, he had the decency to keep it to himself.

This is good news for people in our neck of the woods. We are tired of fighting cold winds, treacherous driving conditions, and unpredictable event cancellations. However, the temps last Sunday hovered around an unseasonable 70 degrees, giving us a big enough taste of spring to get us really excited.

2. The Kansas City Chiefs won the Super Bowl for the first time in fifty years. This is a big thing to Missourians, with the excitement multiplying logarithmically the closer you get to Kansas City. The game four nights ago capped off a season plagued by injuries and a post-season of dramatic comebacks. Super Bowl LIV itself brought a nail-biter which saw quarterback sensation Patrick Mahomes and company work their magic in the game's final six minutes to convert a 20-10 deficit to a 31-20 win.

3. Pooh celebrated his eleventh birthday, which he observed in grand style beginning with a visit from Pa-pa and me Thursday through Saturday. We took along a Chiefs AFC West Division Champ shirt for him and a dozen cupcakes with Chiefs decorations.

On Saturday he had a football-themed party with his friends, and on Sunday we traded text messages and photos as the big game came down to the wire. In our family, we will always remember that Pooh turned eleven years old on the day the Chiefs won the Super Bowl--02-02-2020. Pooh loves sports, especially football, so this makes both events extra special.

Over the past few days my Facebook "memories" have been popping up with pictures of Pooh on some of his previous birthdays. There was the one from ten years ago where he was sitting in his high chair with his face covered in chocolate icing. In another ten years, he will be a grown man of twenty-one. This is scary.

Years ago, I could never have imagined life with seven grandchildren. Now, I can't imagine it without them. Birthdays always seem to bring reflections on how fast the kids are growing up and how time is getting away.

But enough of that. Spring is coming, the Chiefs are champs, and Pooh has reached the fun age of eleven. It is a happy time for us, and this boy is a huge reason for that. 

Catching Up

As a kid growing up, I often heard adults around me talking about how "time flies." I couldn't imagine how they could think such a thing, when, clearly, an eternity seemed to stretch from Christmas to Christmas and from one of my birthdays to the next.

Now, however, I understand too well what they meant. Thanksgiving has already come and gone, baby Packee has made his first visit to Googie's house, and tomorrow I will turn the calendar to December. That will give me a frantic twenty-four days to finish shopping, wrap, send cards, and throw a tree into the corner of the living room. How did I ever have time to work? I remember the older adults of my childhood saying that, too.

Situated as I am here on the short track to Christmas, I can't see how in the world I will have the time to store away all the unrecorded "treasures" of the last several months here in "Googie's Attic." Yet, because these events are all momentous in their own ways, they merit at least a cursory mention to secure their place in this record the kids and I will want to look back at someday.

I have often noticed how newspapers, at year's end, will go back to review their top stories of the year. So, taking a cue from them, I am looking back over the past three months to consider several topics that I fully intended to write posts about but, for various reasons, didn't get to. Though each of them deserves its own spotlight, they will have to share the stage this time. So here is a little "collection," of sorts, that I wish to relegate to at least this small corner of Googie's attic.

Aunt Julie comes back. In August, Pa-pa and I were surprised and delighted when Julie, our AFS daughter from three years ago, made an impromptu two-week visit to the States. Of course, high on her list of priorities was a visit to Sooby, Bootsie, Zoomie (in front), and Pooh in Kansas. She even brought a little stuffed bunny, named "Miffy," for baby Packee, whose arrival was still a month away. She also brought us loads of stroopwafels and Dutch candy. Pa-pa and I look forward to traveling to the Netherlands in the spring to visit Julie and her family there.

Green Machine wins Zombie soccer tournament. In late October son Teebo (back left) entered this team of future soccer pros in tourney play at the end of a season that saw them go undefeated. True to form, they dribbled and shot their way through the tournament, winning all four of their post-season games and maintaining their perfect record. Both Heero (far left) and Beenie (second from right) played their hearts out and contributed goals to the team effort. Pa-pa and I didn't miss one exciting moment of tournament play, and we look forward to more Green Machine action next fall.

Moose, saucy wench, pioneer girl, and storm trooper rock Halloween night. Pa-pa and I made a quick overnight stay in Kansas Halloween night as these four candy-mongers took to the streets of Maple Hill. Next year, they may not be able to cover quite so much ground with little Packee toddling alongside. Hopefully, we will get to see him on his first trick-or-treating excursion and find out whether or not he has inherited the family penchant for chocolate.

Googie's "kiddie bus" gets totaled. No, November did not start out well, and I normally would not give such a disappointing event space in our "Attic." But over the past four years all six grandkids and I have traveled so many miles together that our gold van was like our good friend. There was nothing like tooling around with all of them in tow and giggling at the overhead antics of SpongeBob, the Ninja Turtles, Elmo's Potty Time, and the like.

I am thankful beyond words that none of them were with me the day I happened to be in an intersection when another driver ran through a red light. Despite the painful bumps and bruises and the seemingly  hopeless tangle of insurance issues, I know that I am very lucky that the outcome, whatever it may be, will not be as bad as it could have been.

Great-grandma Susie celebrates her ninety-fifth birthday. Just before Thanksgiving, my mom turned ninety-five. She is an integral factor in our family dynamic, and it has been a privilege to watch her enjoy her great-grandchildren (she has nine) and to see her develop a relationship with all of them. They will be quick to tell you that she bakes good cookies and sews pretty quilts.

So--that wasn't exactly a New Year's Eve countdown or anything, but you can see that some big events have affected our lives over the past several months. They are things that have made us laugh, cheer, feel sorrowful, and rejoice. This period of our lives is a microcosm of the whole of life itself, and, hopefully, you can see why I thought it needed to be remembered.

Looking at my calendar, I am afraid I may not make it back to the blog until after New Year's. But I'm sure there will be holiday stories to tell then and photos to share. For the moment, I feel reasonably "caught up." But in only a few short hours I will have to turn over the calendar page, and once again--already--December and I will step up to the starting line and the race will be on.

Heero's Knock-Out Party

There is just something special about turning six. In Heero's case, the past year marks his transformation from a little boy reluctant to climb ladders and sleep in the dark into a regular kid who swings a bat, dribbles a soccer ball, shoots hoops, and rocks kindergarten.

A short six months ago Pa-pa and I were attending his preschool graduation. It was during that ceremony that I got the first inkling of Heero's future plans. We listened as we heard from children who aspired to be police officers, fire fighters, and all the career positions you might expect from a group of four- and five-year-olds. Then, toward the end of the program, we heard our sixth grandchild tell the world what he wants to be when he grows up. Apparently, Heero wants to be . . . a boxer.

I thought of Muhammed Ali. I thought of Rocky Balboa. I imagined that sweet little boy standing up there on the stage sporting a designer mouth guard and wiping blood off his face with his forearm. In my mind I watched him dance around the ring, delivering his own well-placed punches while dodging those of his opponent. And, of course, since he is my grandson, I imagined the referee counting to ten, declaring the opponent OUT, and raising Heero's sweaty little arm up in victory amid the deafening cheers of an arena full of devoted fans.

So when his sixth birthday rolled around this past week, I could see my mission clearly. I must do my part to help this boy realize his career dream. Yes, this was a no-brainer. I must buy him boxing gloves. A tip from his mama clued me in on the color red. Even the casual observer will admit that he already looks the part.

The party where Heero acquired his gloves was a knock-out in its own right, building on a LEGO theme. There were LEGO favors for all his friends and cousins, as he models below.

Other prize-winning aspects of the party included a pinata shaped like the Number 6, a LEGO version of the Twister game, and a magic show performed by the birthday boy himself.

Rounding out the fun, in addition to all the candy treasures that flew out of the pinata, were pizza and, of course, the obligatory cake.

To cap off Heero's birthday week, I got to be his guest at his first school Grandparent's Day, where we wove a yarn spider web, combined our artistic efforts to "Draw a Grandma," and picked out two books for him at the school's book fair. (It is good, I suppose, that we are encouraging reading and other skills as a back-up plan just in case the boxing thing doesn't work out.)

And so, I close with a birthday wish for this amazing all-grown-up boy who, until just six weeks ago, was my youngest grandchild: I have loved every moment of my time with you this week. You seemed to jump into this world landing on both feet and have kept things interesting ever since. I hope you are always this ready to embrace new adventures and punch through any obstacles that try to get in your way. It won't be possible to win every fight that comes along, but I will always be among your biggest fans and you will always be Heero to me.

"We Can Fix This"

A couple weeks ago, I commandeered daughter Cookie's kitchen island for Operation Homework and enlisted kids from grades 2, 3, 5, and 7 to take down the enemy before the bedtime ambush. Although it was a maneuver I had grown rusty at, our mission garnered some modest success over the week and a half I was there, and we enjoyed a lot of good fun and conversation in the process.

On one night in particular, Bootsie (who had celebrated her ninth birthday only a few days before) was going head to head with some grammar, generating some discussion of sentence subjects, direct objects, and the like. Her assignment involved some parsing and diagramming, and she was having a little trouble determining the roles and relationships among nouns in a given sentence. I watched as she wrote an object in the subject spot.

We talked about the different ways verbs work, and how some nouns denote "doers" while others designate "receivers."  She realized her mistake, erased it, corrected it, and looked thoughtfully up at me.

"You know," she said, "some people just say, 'Oh look. You did that wrong, didn't you?'"

"Really?" I asked, thinking she might be referring to me. "What would I say?"

A few seconds of thoughtful silence, and then this: "You would say, 'We can fix this.'" She caught me off-guard.

Right off the top of my head, I can't recall many times when anything anyone said made me feel better than these simple, sincere words from this new nine-year-old. I love that someone might see my efforts in this positive way. I like the thought that someone might look to me for hope, for reassurance, for ways out of tough spots, for companionship when problems need solving.

So here I sit, a full, unprecedented twenty-four days late with birthday-blog wishes for this sweet kid. Although busy may be a reason, it does not hold up as an excuse. There is a problem here, and I must fix this. Now.

Happy birthday, Bootsie. In the chaotic whirlwind that blew in with a new baby brother, you slipped quietly from eight years old to nine. In spite of that, though, there were presents and cake (twice) and lots of good thoughts that were just for you. You got toys, activity kits, and costumes to feed your creative spirit, and I was glad to arrive while the celebration was still ongoing and fresh. I can't wait to return in a few days for Halloween.

Your great-grandma and I are proud to see that you are hand-stitching quilt blocks from these squares of fabric she gave you.

Don't get frustrated, though, if you find a row of stitching that is crooked or coming loose. Don't worry if the pattern doesn't turn out quite like you intended. As you are finding out, everything doesn't always come together smoothly, especially right off the bat. Some of the things you want to accomplish take a lot of time.

So be patient with yourself, and stay positive. Like all of us, you are bound to make a few mistakes along the way. But when that happens, just remind yourself, "We can fix this"-- and then try your best to do just that.

Packee

I had forgotten how it feels to hold a newborn baby. After all, nearly six years had gone by since the last new grandkid, and my mind had moved on from nursery rhymes to The Hardy Boys and from first steps to dance steps. By every indication, it seemed safe to dispense with the baby toys, the high chair, the toddler bed.

But as it turns out, the sweet song of little people in my life plays on. At the bottom of this page of music, a repeat sign has magically appeared. Baby Packee, born at 8:37 a.m. on Sept. 30, is adding another verse and his own variation to the familiar melody of the past twelve years. I have just returned home from a ten-day stay with him and his family as we all adjust to a family dynamic so dramatically (but joyfully) changed.

Baby Packee joins four adoring siblings who at present clamor and compete to hold him. Below, on the night he was born, Zoomie gets the honors as Sooby, Pooh, and Bootsie look on.

Since then, everyone has had plenty of turns, including me. This photo, taken right before I left to come home five days ago, pretty well verifies that I still have my knack for baby-holding and assures Packee's place as suitable subject matter for "Googie's Attic."

A few friends have asked me how I chose "Packee" as the blog nickname for this seventh addition to Googie's cast of characters. In the case of his siblings, I have always added a double-o to the first letter of their real names to form the nicknames used to reference them in the blog. So when it happened that this baby's first name begins with the same letter as that of his brother "Pooh," I had a hard time coming up with another name beginning P-O-O. (Think about it--the options are not too promising.)

So I decided to include the double-e pattern from the names of his cousins Beenie and Heero and to position those letters at the end of the word. Since the baby's real-life initals are P.A.C., I determined I could add a "k" and call him "Packee." Not only does this honor his real initials, but it also honors a TV character I loved as a child in the late 1950s--Packy Lambert. Packy, played by Roger Mobley, was in the cast of the Saturday morning TV show Fury, a series about a beautiful black horse living on a ranch in California.

Our little Packee is three weeks old today. He arrived five days before his sister Bootsie's ninth birthday, which was pretty well eclipsed by his arrival. I am late with her birthday blog, I know, but maybe she will be so busy with her new little brother that she won't notice.