(*THE ADORABLES are coming to see ZAZA next week. I've pulled a blog from the past to share while reflecting on the great times I've had with them over the years. Here's a little slice of life from the time capsule.)
I'm in North Carolina baby-sitting the Adorables as their parents enjoy the Greek Islands. I don't feel I got the short end of the stick. I have stories everyday they share as they run through the door. And if we don't have enough story material, this morning a little someone went out the door without turning off the alarm so while on the phone with my mother a LOUD, SCREAMING alarm sounded. And while I was trying to calm my Mother and tell her we were not under invasion a voice from the wall began calmly insisting I tell her the PASSWORD.
"Look, I tell her. I don't know the password. I don't remember the password. I had it last year but now - the parents have gone to Greece see and I'm the Zaza see so it's just me."
"I'll need that verbal password," she says.
"Yes, I understand you need it - really I do - but I don't have it."
"Then the homeowner needs to call us right away."
"Mamn, did I mention they are in GREECE?!"
"Thank you," she says and hangs up.
I hear this voice on my cell phone - "Hello, hello, honey are you ok?" as the Adorables go back out the door and set off the alarm again.
Then the police show up at the door.
"I"m not dressed yet for the police," I tell him.
They want to see the Adorables.
Sure. Follow me - ignore the wet, overly friendly dog. See the Adorables. See them swimming and laughing in the pool. Dear Adorables, please tell the nice policeman who I am. (Insert pause - I really think that child paused) And finally said - she's our grandmother. I think she was trying to translate what would be best for the policeman and figured that Zaza might get me thrown in jail. I'll at least give her the benefit of the doubt.
But the police man was nothing compared to dealing with a Marley type dog called Leo. He has since I arrived . . .
Zeus gets treats.
Leo gets time out.
We're planning on visiting a bookstore this afternoon.
All is well. All will be well. And all is well.
(Since this post Good Dog Zeus has passed on to doggy heaven but he will always be remembered like he is wearing a halo because he was just that kind of very, good dog. Leo is still alive. He has had training. And found his brains. But not before he destroyed my iphone by swimming with it in his mouth under the water in the pool.)
What do you get when you cross Dennis the Menace with Calvin aka Calvin and Hobbs and ramp up the cute factor by 1000 degrees - You get the Damon.
I've been with this kid since the day of his birth. Rocked him, fed him, cooed to him and played the role of ZAZA for all of his just turned five years? And still, when I suggested to his Dad that I could take him with me on a road trip for 2 weeks while I went to see the adorables he looked at me and asked, "Two weeks? Are you sure?" I thought he was worried about the kid. Now, I realize he was worried about me.
I'm thinking well, of course. I took the Adorables with me every summer for a road trip. Now, I'm going to see them and he has reached the magic age of five - he should come along. It's like a tradition now. Road trip with Zaza. The Adorables have reached the savvy years of Ten (almost 11) and Fifteen (almost 25). They have been irritated (just my guess), exasperated (just a guess), shell-shocked (who wouldn't be) and occasionally charmed by the kid they adored when he was a babe. It's that charming few seconds that he works that keeps him from being sent to his room until he is 45.
He is just - all boy? Is that a real thing any more? I guess it is since I went to his pre-k 4 year old graduation - yes. It's a thing. And I don't think it should be a thing. But I went anyway and when the kids eyes lit up when I walked into the auditorium I wouldn't have been anywhere else in the world. He was the first kid to make it to the 100 club last year (counting to 100) and letting me know the rest of the kids were coming along and giving it their best shot. He also let me know he sat by Miss Wendy everyday at lunch. I thought maybe he was her favorite or something. Now, I realize she was trying to keep the school from being burned down. Accidently. The kid is not malicious. He is - - - - curious. Like a scientist. Which is what led to our 911 call.
So this is how it happened . . .
Maybe it started with a trip to the dollar store. This is where we bought bath fizzes and little capsules that turn into sponge shapes. The kid happens to be faster than flash. As evidenced in photo where I turned my back and he had located a sword and stuck it down his shirt, prepared to fight demons and dragons I suppose. Only before he made it back to the sword isle to replace it he had drawn it on a woman who might have been in her 70s. I was rushing to snatch it away and apologize when she whipped out an imaginary sword and begin defending herself. I went back to what I was doing. Obviously she was in control of the situation.
THE BATHTUB EQUATION
The Adorables have a friend staying over. They are watching one of my favorite movies. Moonrise Kingdom. Everyone has eaten. The television is about six feet from the bathtub. I put The Damon in the bathtub with magic shapes and bubble fizzes. I stand up and watch part of the movie. He yells Zaza. I go back to the bathroom. Yes, That's a t-rex. Good job. Back to the movie. I love this movie. He yells Zaza. Back to the bathtub. This goes on for a long time. I never, ever sit down to watch even five minutes of the movie. I never sit down. The girls are my witnesses. All the spongy things have turned into shapes and I am about to supervise the out of the tub and into the Mickey Mouse pajamas when I go back to the tub and in the six feet five minutes break the kid has - Gotten out of the tub, found a GLOWSTICK like they sell at fairs and for 4th of july - gotten back into the tub and decided to maybe bend the glow stick until it breaks to see what is inside, have it leak into the tub.
THIS IS NOT RECOMMENDED PROCEDURE!
When I step back into the bathroom I immediately realize something has gone wrong in the last 2 and half minutes. There is a horrible chemical smell, the bath water is not the right fizzy color and I pull child from tub, tell him I need to wash him in clean water, start to drain the tub and then the kid starts to SCREAM. No parent or grandparent or nice neighbor next door wants to hear a kid scream like this. The fact that he is holding his privates with a look of pure panic and screaming is a serious CLUE that glow-sticks broken in tub do not mix well with boy parts. The screaming GET'S LOUDER AS I AM DRAINING THE TUB TELLING THE KID IT'S GONNA BE OK. Pouring cold water over him and over him and over him and the screaming get's louder and all of this in maybe sixty long seconds and I have two thoughts -
Call poison control but I can't turn loose of the water and screaming kid. Tell the fifteen year old to look up the number for poison control and call them - or - insert blood curdling screams and visions in my head of the child burning from the inside out here - call 911.
Adorable One calls 911.
What is the emergency?
There is a screaming kid in the bathtub.
Can you go to a room where I can hear you?
Yes. There is a screaming kid in the bathtub.
Why is he screaming?
I don't know. Zaza said call 911.
I am trying to explain why he is screaming but he is screaming. The lady on 911 is asking questions. The fifteen year old is trying to ask me questions. The kid is screaming don't touch me and clutching himself and I'm pouring water on him.
By Minute number 4 there is an officer standing in the door of the bathroom. I don't think I've ever been happier to see a guy in uniform. Officer sees the kids eyes get eversowide and calmly tells the kid - You are not in trouble. I say two words. Glow-stick. Bathtub. My eyes as wide as the kids. He looks at my wide eyes and says - Not Toxic. These are two of the sweetest words I've ever heard.
INSERT a little backstory.
At the grocery store the day before a police officer was standing next to some people taking a report when Damon asked -what are the police doing at the store? and a certain Zaza MIGHT have said - looking for little boys running through the store that don't mind their Zaza's. Then the kid wouldn't get out of his carseat. When I asked why. He said -Are you kidding?! I can't go in there! The police are looking for me!
(Don't lecture me on proper parenting and telling kids police are their friends. I've been on the road for weeks)
BACK TO BATHTUB -
I explain to the kid in my calm it's not toxic voice - This man has all the same body parts you do. I'm sure he'll know exactly what we need to do.
(I think this is pretty brilliant reasoning tactics. If you ever have to deal with boys of any age I suggest it. They seem to take this part seriously.)
At which point the screaming subsides, I'm still pouring cold water and the kid is calming down. Then there is all that detailed stuff like - another officer is guarding the door outside (not sure why) I have to explain that yes, I am the guardian and look - I have witnesses - i've been in this bathroom all night - minus those 2 minutes.
The fire rescue guy arrives. I must show my id, sign a form, and do all the things one does to help the emergency a) determine nothing wicked is going on and b) people wrap up this visit and go off to help people in danger from worse things than a glow stick.
When they leave the kid is wearing his Mickey Mouse jammies and eating watermelon. But he doesn't let the Rescue guy leave until ---
"Do you like slime? Do you have any slime? Here, see my slime? I have blue slime. Touch it, go ahead just touch it! "
Rescue guy touches slime. Says he's got his own slime he has to get back to. Says goodnight.
"Still burning?" I ask the kid when he leaves.
"Yeah, it still burns."
Four ginger ales and four trips to the bathroom later we safely call it a night. I don't want to hear my son tell me one time - "I told you so."
This is a story of how we ate the best donut of our lives.
I'm in North Carolina visiting the Adorables. That's my beautiful grandaughters now age 15 and 10. Readers have followed the adventures of me road tripping every summer with the girls for years. Now I'm in NC with them and we have two weeks to stare at rain and come up with ideas of things to do. But something tiny and amazing seems to always happen. This visit for the first time I brought a member of the Wolf Pack with me. The five year old, Damon. All boy. On full out tilt all the waking hours of his days.
The Adorables spent the first few days getting over the shock of it. Last night they stopped trying to be nice and maintain all their manners. Sure they had rocked him and gave him a bottle and watched him take first steps - but now? He runs, the talks, the asked questions, and he keeps trying to sit next to them because he likes them. They are exhausted.
Keeping the kids or them keeping me I am always surprised at what the magic of being Zaza means. The way that it affects me. As Damon as asked me, "Are we still on our adventure?" Oh, yes I tell him. We are still on our adventure. That's what being a grandparent does. It adds a something extraordinary to the experience. Things I'm certain I tried to do with my children and did in the midst of homework and school rules and report cards. But one of the most amazing things I've learned is the lesson that they have taught me. The magic really does exist in the moment.
Damon and I chased three rainbows on our journey here from Nashville. Each was a celebration and the enthusiasm never waned. We discussed the colors, chased the pot of gold, watched it fade and grow stronger.
Nothing was ordinary. The corn in the fields. The red cars on the road. The clouds in the sky. The flowers on the roadside. The tunnels. Or the traffic jams which were the longest in the world.
A storm hit us so hard after dark that I could barely see how to find the exit off the interstate. I almost felt my way rather than drove to the only hotel available. I had planned just two more exits down to hit a Hampton Inn - interior doorways and all that - but I couldn't see in front of me. It was Days Inn or the car.
Once we made it to get a room - ON THE GROUND FLOOR PLEASE with a dashing five year old and sixteen bags in the storm - Damon declared he just LOVED our new bedroom. The cable didn't work. No matter. Everything was wonderful. There was a hidden fridge (empty) and a microwave. Surely we had hit the jackpot. A free breakfast with the most amazing things like CEREAL and juice. BUT nothing prepared us for what would happen here.
This particular trip is on an extremely tight budget. Not like some where we have seen Rock City so I have to be creative with my magic. But the first day I woke up with them I realized I lay in bed a moment trying to figure out my life when it hit me - Wait! I'm ZAZA. They made me ZAZA fifteen years ago by Ella's baby babble. And God has anointed me with the supernatural powers of all grandparents - to Carpe the Diem and make memories.
"Get up," I announced. "We are going to the bakery!" Don't lecture me about sugar and healthy eating. That's not my job. Not today anyway.
"Thank God," one of them said. As if another day of routine would be the end of civilization.
And new life was breathed into our routine. We decided that the bakery we should try was over in Surf City. The one that cooks your donut to order when you walk in the door. Yes, the hot sign is always on because they don't make it until you arrive. You can get a maple bacon or a death by chocolate or a thousand other original you make it up order.
I turned off the car in front of the store and said, "WAIT!" before we got out. "Do you realize guys that this could be it? This could be the moment we eat the absolute best donuts of our lives? Right here?"
Everyone paused. Could it be true? Could this be the moment in our lives that is just before us and will never return?
I went with the traditional glaze, ordered a cinnamon sugar for the wolf cub and the girls ordered crazy, original orders.
Yes, it was true. They were the best DONUTS OF OUR LIVES!
(I've been a huge fan of Dan-D-Donuts all of my school years in Panama City and it will always have a special place in my heart and part of my 'going home' routine.)
For those of you who know me and Cousin Debbie Register and also our history of getting into trouble together for all of our lives - I have to tell you that we are planning MATCHING TAT'S in April when she arrives on vacation Because we are old enough to be stupid in a whole new way. Most people also know we are as different as the sun and moon so agreeing on a tattoo is another thing. Which I THOUGHT we had done but now she is shifting her perspective on me.
A brief history:
Trouble. Deb and I have gotten into trouble all of our lives. The kind of trouble that cousins who are best friends can get into. That's the stupid kind. Not being bad but just being like Lucy and Ethel although I'd like to think of us more along the romantic Thelma and Louise types - It's def more Lucy and Ethel.
So for years we have decided to mark one thing or the other by getting a tattoo. Let's just do it, She'd say. And I'd say sure, sure. But of course we didn't. Then we put in at some point to get identical tats and since we are so different that didn't happen and then deciding on where to put them was another personal choice all of which has kept us for fifty years from getting inked. But we are old enough now to be full tilt stupid.
Deb decided when she read about the Phoenix bird and all its symbolism that we both really needed a phonenix. I said - fine. Then she started looking at pictures of the Phoenix. Her reactions were classic Deb. Hand to head, frown. Her exuberance replaced by concern.
What's the problem?
This is a very ugly bird. That neck, I mean, It looks like a snake. I don't think I can do this.
That was about three years ago or more and so that has certainly iced the ink move. In the meantime I came up with a tattoo of my own that I wanted - The Celtic knot that symbolizes The Trinity so that I could always remind myself in times of trouble - Look, girl -This is what you believe. Don't forget that. But I never got around to that as well. I do good to have clean underwear so having a tat just hasn't been on my to do list.
ENTER - Deb's vacation and her finding a Phoenix tattoo that is more impressionist and feminine. Okay. So we will just do it.
SIDEBAR- DEB has ABSOLUTELY NO TOLERANCE FOR PAIN. None. Zilch. If she has a fever you would think she just caught swine flu. If she stubs her toe it's a major affair. Mine almost cut off - She doesn't even pay attention as she chases a wasp because she is afraid it will STING HER and she will be rushed to the hospital.
Okay - So apparently getting a Tattoo is not a PAINLESS event. She swears she is going first and won't back out. When I told my sons one said - Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it because Deb won't do it. And the other laughed and laughed at the mere thought. He said if they are going to be matching it will be really small because it will be one dot. That's all they'll get done on Deb before she screams and backs out.
Deb could make some money on this because everyone is betting a) She won't do it. and B) she really won't do it.
All I know to do is report back in April. I pushed her out of tree over a river once when she changed her mind at the top and wanted to go back down. Then in all fairness I jumped in after her. If she backs out of this I don't think the tattoo artist will let me hold her down on the table. But I'm committed now. This story has been fifty years in the making. She turns chicken - I'm getting that Celtic knot.
What's the story in your world?
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.