Picket Fence Post

Item #1: Grandparents Want Hip Names

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column about how I thought the media were unfairly maligning Baby Boomer grandparents — specifically grandmothers – portraying them as too narcissistic to be bothered to do “grandmotherly” duties and pitting them against one another.

This week I saw yet another grandparent-centric article which deepened my suspicion that the media have grown tired of the old working mom/at-home mom “mommy wars” and is trying to drum up some excitement for the so-called ”nana wars.” This page one article in the Boston Globe focused on the fact that some grandparents don’t want their grandkids to call them by traditional names and prefer either their first names or something quirkier, hipper. The article entitled, “They love being grandparents, but call them something else,” begun this way:

“As the youth-obsessed baby boomers advance, albeit reluctantly, into the next phase of their lives, they are embracing grandparenthood with the same gusto they have expressed for everything else, be it exercise or adventure travel. They’re loading the grandkids’ video games onto their own iPods, listening to their music, and taking them on trips.

But grandparenting comes with a catch: It means you are getting old — or at least older. And that’s not sitting well with a generation that grew up on The Who singing, ‘I hope I die before I get old.” Sure, they want to be grandparents. Just don’t call them that.”

The article offered examples of grandparents who prefer to be called by their first names or unusual monikers such as Bubbles, Sharky, Pebbles, Rock, Gram-E and Nanno. Somehow I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the this-generation-of-grandparents-isn’t-playing-by-the-so-called-”rules” stories.

Item #2: ‘Free’ the Kids

I’m currently finishing reading the book Free-Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy, with whom I’m hoping to conduct a Q&A for posting on this blog next week. She makes the compelling argument that we’ve become too over protective of our children in all areas of their lives. And she’s not the only one who thinks so.

In my June Parents & Kids Magazine column entitled, “Free the Children: Not a Slogan for This Generation of Parents,” I addressed how different childhood is for kids today versus when we were youths (like when my parents used to regularly send me to the store to buy them cigarettes whereas today they’d be jailed for doing so). The column calls attention to an incident this spring involving the police, a 10-year-old boy and a mother who let said boy walk down the street solo to soccer practice and got harassed about endangering her child.

Item #3: Snarky Mom Retaliates

Each week The Youngest Boy brings home a spiral notebook into which he’s written an entry that details the highlights of his past week in school. After the parents read the entry, we have been asked by the teachers to write a note of our own into the journal because the teachers believe it’s important for us to demonstrate that we’re engaged parents and care about our child’s education.

On Monday morning, my 7-year-old second grader informed me that he doesn’t read anything I write in that book (because 99.9 percent of the time I’m the one responding to his weekly posts). This irked me because I try to make an effort to read and respond each week, and flog myself with guilt when I forget. When I demanded to know why the boy never reads the little, quirky missives of mine, he said he didn’t have time. Then he tried to backtrack, saying he was “just kidding,” only I don’t think he was. 

Feeling a challenge coming on I said, “Well if I write a wild and crazy entry, something really nutty, I’ll bet you’ll read it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to write something crazy.”

“No you won’t.”

Oh yes I did. Here’s an excerpt:

“You were joking with me this morning, saying that you NEVER read what I write and told me, ‘Mrs. T doesn’t care what YOU write.’ So therefore, my sweet little gingersnap, I’m going to write a sappy, goofy note to you today to test your declaration that you ‘NEVER’ read my notes. Okay, buttercup?”

Across several consecutive pages I put various notations such as “Don’t forget to read your mom’s note! Go Sox!” and “I hear that moms write the best notes to their 2nd grade sons. Seriously!”

No word on whether my stunt has prompted the kid to read my entry yet. I’ll find out whether I’ve shamed him into reading my notes tomorrow when he brings his journal home.