About the everyday lives of two Grandmothers who also happen to write.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
I'm Chopped Liver
My husband came home on Friday from a three week trip down state. He travels for a living so this wasn’t an unusual event. It’s always good to have him back home.
We watch our three year old grand daughter in the evenings and on weekends while our daughter works. She goes to school during the day and Alana, our grand daughter, stays at daycare.
The first time we watched the girl was Saturday night while mom worked.
Alana walked in the front door, saw her pawpaw, as she calls him and never even said hello to me.
Not long after she arrived I asked her if she needed to go to the bathroom. Potty training is still an issue with her. When she gets distracted while playing with her pawpaw, she sometimes forgets.
She said, “Yes, I need to go.”
So I said, “Well, lets go and take care of it.”
She shook her head and said, “No, pawpaw.”
And that was the theme for the rest of the evening. If it was time to eat, pawpaw had to fix her plate. Time to on her pajamas for bed, pawpaw had to help. Time to read a book for bedtime, pawpaw. And so went the evening.
I would have a terrible complex about this except for one thing. It gives me unfettered opportunities to go into my office and write.
When her grandfather is out of town, I have to get moving early in the morning to get any writing done. Or I have to wait for her to take a nap. That doesn’t happen often. She’s not much of a napper. And forget doing anything other than a little lite housework or cooking a meal. She demands all of my attention.
So I really don’t mind much that I become “chopped liver” when my husband is home. But don’t let him know that. I like to really pour on the guilt when he’s with her.