There’s something so moving about the absolute confidence young children have in our judgment.
They trust us.
They believe to their core that we wish them well.
Over the past several days, I got to know my granddaughter, and I lived these truths. Amelie lives on the opposite coast so I haven’t seen her as much as I have my other grandkids who live nearer. In fact, it’s safe to say she didn’t know me at all.
But, we got on like a house afire.
Without a thought, she’d hold my hand. Sit on my lap. Get in my car.
She believed everything I said.
That, my friend, is a terrifying responsibility.
Unfortunately, I’m one of those who can’t see my own life while I’m in it. It’s only in hindsight that I see the light. Like a grain of sand in an oyster, my often-painful life experiences evolve, and become a pearl over time.
When my kids were small, I was still a kid myself and unable to appreciate their devotion and dependence.
I did my best, but couldn’t see the wonder.
For some reason, spending time with Amelie allowed me to fully realize what I’d had…and missed. The way she’d lie next to me on my pillow and tell me her stories, breathless, anxious to please, to get out all the words. And no matter how inane my reply, she'd soak it in, because if I said it - it meant something to her. Despite my many shortcomings, she felt I deserved her attention and affection. Just like that.
When asked by her Dad why she felt sad that we were leaving, she said without pause, "Because I love Mimi."
Isn't that the way it is with kids? Faster than the speed of sound they fall for you, and you for them.
Then, it hit me.
I am a lucky soul indeed.
Multiply Amelie times six and you’ve got my life.
I’ve got six grandkids who fill me up with all things good and true. They like to spend time with me, they make me feel clever and laugh at my jokes. They sing me songs, show me their dance moves, draw me pictures, and call me on the phone. They are funny, smart, eccentric, and they give me so much more than I could ever give them.
There’s a lot I don’t know about parenting, or grand parenting – except this:
It is an honor to be loved by a child.
As threatened...a progress report on our mini-remodel that actually feels pretty major. That's our knocker. And we love our knockers around here.
That's our entryway gargoyle. Making everyone feel welcome. Or creeped out. Whatever.
Speaking of our entryway...
This is the family room/kitchen before. Dullsville. This is what it looked like when we first looked at the house. This is not our furniture. NOT.
That was then...this is now...
On to the Master. When I saw this photo online I thought it was a garage. Turns out it was more of a brothel type deal. We didn't do much to it. That's the kind of people we are.
As you'll see in the following photos we have a pillow situation. Hubby has two master's degrees but he is not qualified to arrange the pillows. It takes a pillow master. Which, I happen to be.
Next up - the stairwell. Who cares about the stairwell? Me.
Snoooooze....but not anymore!
The media room. It was, and is, tacky city. But, we've pretty much run out of steam to do anything to it other than put stuff in it that we don't have room for anywhere else. This is it before...you'll notice it doesn't look much different after.
No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. That IS leopard print carpet. Meow....
You will notice that the original photo is of much better quality. Naturally.
The guest rooms. I only have before photos of one of them. This is why I would suck at food or style blogging. I never remember to take the pics.
No, I don't know what that is growing on the walls. They might've filmed The Ring in here. This room was one well away from having a dead girl climb out of it. Or, it was some bio-terror experiment gone awry.
This last room has no before photos. It was just empty. Now it's not.
This blog takes as long to read as the remodeling did. But, that's it. Almost.
Just the living room (still waiting on the furniture. Why does it take 10-12 weeks to get it? Does anyone know?) and the landscaping.