I’m A Bit Worried About the Grandchildren

I know this is a bit alarming, but it seems my daughter has informed me that I now have grandchildren, seven of them in fact. They’re lovely girls don’t you think?


Well actually, the truth is, I’m a little concerned about some of them. I think their color is a bit off. And frankly, they look like they could use a good meal.


And one of them even turned up at a sleep over party with no panties. (Actually, I’m not just being perverted, at $25 bucks a pop, you’d think they could at least come equipped with underwear.)


Barbie says she doesn’t like them at all, but I think maybe she is just jealous. The other day, I walked in to my daughter’s bedroom and saw…


Barbie said she was just being affectionate but I think she was trying to strangle poor Frankie Stein! (Maybe she doesn’t like Jewish people.)

Anyway, my grandchildren also have these adorable pets.


I know they look a little worse for the wear but I have to say these little buggers have really won my hearts. Of course Watzit is a bit of a problem on account that he constantly is rooting around in the garbage so we have to give him a cootie bath every night.


This is Count Fabulous. I know you won’t believe this, but Count Fabulous is actually a boy. Draculaura just can’t resist dressing him in ribbons and bows. Of course, this makes my husband a bit uncomfortable, especially when Count Fabulous declares that everything is fabulous, in a very flamboyant manner, but I say, whatever makes him happy.


Besides, I know it’s really not a grandmother’s place to butt in.

But I have to tell you…

I’m a bit worried about the grandchildren.

My Grandfather Died Today

My grandfather died today. No really, you don’t need to be sympathetic. He was nearly 94 years old and his quality of life was not what it should have been and honestly, it was one of those things where we were just waiting for him to die.

The last time I saw him was about a year ago. He had no idea who I was and he kept staring at the meal schedule and asking me if it was time for dinner. I would scream in his ear “Dinner is at 4:30 and it’s about 2:30 now so, another two hours.” He would accept my answer and after a few seconds, the process would repeat itself.
The truth was, although it would have been kind of me to continue seeing him right up until The End, it was difficult for my children (he scared the bejeezus out of my daughter) who I had to take along, and he really didn’t know who I was, and, within about 2 minutes or so, he had no memory of ever seeing me. Not to mention the obscene amount of gas it took to get there and back. But I suppose, this is all beginning to sound like a lame excuse.
I imagine the women who worked in the nursing home seeing less and less people coming to visit the patients there, myself included, and thinking that it was sad…
I’m sure many people know how it is caring for old people. It is burdensome and expensive. My mother is not young herself, and her husband, quite a bit older than her, is also in failing health, I give her lot of credit for staying there and hanging on until the end.
I’m not going to lie. At the end, there was a lot of morbid jokes being made.
My mother sent me the news in a text today when I was at work. She tried to keep it light hearted, something like, “your grandfather passed so see ya!” How did I feel? Well a bit relieved, yes, but also sad. My grandfather was a bit of a curmudgeon, but he was the man who supported me when my dead beat father walked out. He was a good guy in the end.
I wrote back to my mother, “I actually feel a bit bad”. And her response came “Me too”.
Those two words written on the electronic screen just looked so sad and lonely that that alone brought tears to my eyes. After all, after our parents go, what is left between us and death?