Blues set in after visit (01/14/08)

What a difference a week makes. Last week I was in Texas washing finger paint off a toddler I had never met before. This was shortly before I cleaned several pounds of the stuff off of my granddaughter Emma. Even though the paints were advertised as washable I doubt if the shirt she was wearing will ever come clean.

The original plan for Emma's birthday party was to have the children use finger paint on butcher paper that was taped to the wall. This was to be followed by decorating clay flowerpots with paint, markers and stickers and was to conclude with having the children plant their own flower to take home.

The weather was beautiful so the party was moved to the backyard - or at least the messy part was outside. Paper was taped to plastic tables instead of the wall. Two-year-old Emma and perhaps three other kids availed themselves of the finger paint. Several others decorated flowerpots. The rest of the hoard of children spent much of their time in the sandbox or chasing the dog. The dog wisely stayed just inches out of their reach for most of the day although it did manage to get green finger paint on its tail.

Several estranged members of the family were there and everybody minded their manners. Ex-spouses caught up with family news and were secretly (or not-so-secretly) glad they were no longer together.

Friends picked up the birthday girl and showed her how to use her finger to lick icing off the cake. Who says the child never eats?

After the presents had been opened and admired, my daughter stuffed flowers into decorated pots and handed them out as people left. Three-year-old Camden, one of Emma's many cousins, was delighted with his purple pansy. Maybe we have a budding horticulturist in the family?

The party was the highlight of our recent trip down south. Most of the rest of the time we just hung out and enjoyed being grandparents. Emma delighted in "scaring" me with a plastic shark. I obligingly shrieked in terror while she giggled.

We babysat one day while my daughter had to attend a meeting. She dropped Emma off at our hotel. It just so happened that they were cleaning our room at the time so we retreated to the lobby.

After the shark business wore off, Emma decided that I needed some exercise. So we climbed up and down the stairs at least a hundred times. Each time we got to the bottom she jumped off the last step then ran over to her "Pop-pa" who would make her giggle some more.

The weather was beautiful and even I was comfortable in short sleeves. Our last day there we stopped by a public park to feed the ducks. They looked more like geese to me, but I have been assured that everything is bigger in Texas. We coaxed a stranger into using my camera to take a picture of us. It was the best one I have had taken in awhile.

It was all over too soon and before we knew it we were on our way back to chilly Indiana. I have been in a blue funk ever since. I miss my daughter. I miss being "Grandpa," and no, that is not a misspelling. Emma persisted in calling me Grandpa. It was only when she was corrected that she would laugh and call me Grandma. Even at two, she has a sense of humor.

I miss the life and energy that comes with being near so many small children. I miss being able to hug my kid. I miss being able to spend an entire day without hearing one complaint from anyone about anything.

I miss the warm weather. I miss being able to go shopping with my daughter. I miss being able to buy her a flower just because she mentioned that it was pretty.

I do not miss palm trees decorated with Christmas lights. That just seems so weird and somehow wrong to me. I do not miss the traffic down there. Even though my daughter drove I found in unnerving to be surrounded by so many cars just inches away from ours.

Perhaps someday we can compromise and live within a few hours of each other. Until then I have to be satisfied with the photographs I took and the memories we created.

The blues will pass but I sure do miss my girls.[[In-content Ad]]