A Day In the Life of a "Nona"

Grandchildren visits, at least for me, are an exercise in perfect imperfection. Here’s a story about a day in the life of this Nona. I’m sure many of you might relate. 

It all began at the breakfast table with 2 ½ year old Thomas. While sitting on my lap, he was enjoying a bowl full of syrup accompanied by a piece of French toast. One by one, in almost slow motion mode, the viscous drips ended up on my post-shower, spanking clean dark blue t-shirt. I have to admit, stickiness is perhaps my least favorite sensation, yet I endured the ruin of a perfectly clean shirt. After all, I was in full “Nona” mode during a recent Mississippi visit. On any other day, that shirt would have been traded for a syrup-free replacement within 2 sips of coffee; but there was no time to change my shirt. My three little ones had other plans.

Breakfast was followed by some pamper time. My grandchildren love to “do nails,” with the kid friendly peel off nail polish. 3-year-old Eileen thought pink and purple alternating nails would be just so beautiful, and then as the peel off polish literally peeled off, 5-year-old Daniel thought I might like to try some varying shades of blue. The entire day, I enjoyed an assortment of colors not only on my nail beds, but loving colorful strokes encased pretty much the entire surface area of my fingertips; a stunning fashion statement for sure. 

Whenever I visit my children and their families, I try to make myself useful and make meals for them to freeze so that dinner time, at least for a few days, the mere task of preheating the oven is the only dinner time prep. I remember those days when dinner required no thought. It didn’t happen very often, but it was a real treat.

While preparing such dinners, I had several sets of helping hands from those who pulled kitchen chairs and popped up next to me so that stirring and pouring became a communal event. There was even a flour dusting that exploded, therefore sticking to the dried syrup on my stained shirt. Peeling carrots with many helpers is, shall we say, interesting. And can I tell you how well Daniel cleans pots and pans? He cleans them so well the effort and intention for spotlessness extended all the way down the cabinets, across the counter, and even across the floor for as far as the scrubbing bubbles could fly. The story of my day splattered across my shirt was expanding. Syrup stains and flower dustings were now laced with carrot shavings; all saturated with water sprays and blotches of peeling nail polish that stuck, thanks to the early morning syrup. 

Here’s the best news. In the aftermath of cleaning up Daniel’s clean-up, guess what?  My nails were ready to be painted once again. And we hadn’t even reached the neighborhood park yet with leaf covered slides ready to explore. What a day!

After all kids were tucked into bed, I recapped the day with my daughter-in-law. I think it was the first time I sat all day, to be honest. We looked at my shirt and laughed. The remnants of my shirt told the story of my day as a Nona. I was pleasantly appalled.  Although I would hardly describe myself as glamorous, I think I’d never felt more beautiful. This day, makeup and coordinating attire were replaced with stickiness, stains, and multi-colored fingertips. I’d say it was a perfect day.