Milkmemos Blog

My Grandma Dorothy (who makes a cameo appearance in The Milk Memos on page 173) passed away a week before Christmas. Her health had been failing for a long time, so we all knew death was near. Still, endings are always hard. I find myself thinking I should have visited her more often and wondering what more I could have done to give her comfort in her last days. The last time I visited her (about a month ago), I brought Caleb with me. He put his hand in hers, and she smiled. She was blind, but she knew exactly whose little hand touched hers, and the realization gave her joy. I’ll always remember that. Little kids always seem to be able to bring smiles, no matter the situation.

Case in point: When we were at the funeral, my niece Ella (who is 3), peered over the edge of the grave where the casket was about to be lowered and said, “This does NOT look safe for Gramcracker!” We all laughed.

At the end of the funeral, both Ella and Caleb knelt by the grave and scattered rose petals, one by one, onto the casket. Gramcracker would have been proud. As I watched the petals float down, I started to wonder what my Grandma had been like at Ella’s age. She too had once been this small, cheerful and  full of wonderment. Where had her life gone? What were her proudest moments? Her private failures? Who will be standing at Ella and Caleb’s gravesite when they are ready to go to heaven? It’s almost too much to for my mind to imagine.

Death always brings perspective — and with Gramcracker’s passing, I found I worried less this year about the hustle bustle of Christmas, sending cards on time, and all of my external desires. I want this feeling to last. Not the sadness, of course — just a palpable desire to appreciate all that I am blessed with.

So, give your babies extra hugs and kisses today — and more tickles on their toes. These times with our little ones are more precious than we know.

I love how Caleb’s mind works. Today, on the way to school, he asked me, “What are baby bunnies called?” Pause. Longer pause. I had no idea! Then came the answer from the back seat: “Bunlings!” said Caleb. “What?” I asked. “Well, if ducks have ducklings, then bunnies have bunlings!” So, bunlings it is.  I love it. For those who want to know the real answer, a baby rabbit is called a kit. And when rabbits give birth, it’s not called birthing. It’s called kindling!

Caleb is sort of famous for coming up with his own “logical” names for things. He calls the place behind his knee “kneepits” (like armpits), and when he plays with my hair (a habit he formed while nursing as a baby), he calls it chut-chut or rub-rub, depending on the technique he’s using. He also calls his tie-dye shirt his “sky diving” shirt — because when he first heard “tie-dye” it sounded like “sky dive.” I always promise I’m going to write these things down in a book so that I can remember them in my old age, but who has time? This blog will have to be the next best thing!

I recently returned from Las Vegas — and I can tell you everything that happened while I was there. My brother says this is a sure sign that I did Las Vegas all wrong. I think his actual words (while laughing at me) were: “You’re a Vegas Virgin.”

But let me set the record straight. My husband and I travelled there for our first vacation together (sans kids) in over two years. Leaving Denver, we had visions in our heads of late nights, fancy meals, a few extra cocktails, sleeping in (but not so late that we’d miss the breakfast buffet), seeing a few shows, and maybe doing something a little wild and crazy. After all, we’re still hip, right?

Unfortunately, we set our sights a little too high. Being on a budget, we picked a hotel that was not in the heart of the Las Vegas strip. I mean, the address said it was on the strip — but this thing was past Circus Circus and the Stratosphere, for anyone who knows the area. For those who don’t, let’s just say we became very familiar with the bus driver during our stay. That is to say that I think I spent more time on bus trips than I did in all my years in grade school. Did I mention that it poured rain for two of the four days I was there (FYI — Las Vegas gets only about 10 rainy days per year)? This meant I had to stand at the bus stop (no umbrella, no jacket) in the pouring rain, while I could feel my naturally curly mane frizz out and give a new meaning to the phrase “bad hair day.” Our hotel had no restaurant (so much for breakfast buffet), no bar, and no in-room movie rental service.

Plus, my husband and I don’t even gamble. What’s there to do on a rainy day in Vegas if you don’t gamble and are on a budget (ie: no shopping)? Well, I’ll tell you what: have a melt down! All of the sudden, both of us started wondering if we were even capable of vacationing together without kids. Some vacation.

It was about that time that I remembered that we had forgotten to have an attitude of gratitude. After all, our good friends had treated us to see “O” (Cirque du Soleil) and to a very fancy dinner while there. I had gotten all gussied up and had my makeup done one night. In addition to “O”, we saw Mystere and Ka too. So, this story has a happy ending — we salvaged the vacation and even decided that we might like to go back some day. Next time, though, we’re staying on the REAL strip.

One observation I had about Vegas (and the real reason I’m writing this blog) is to say that breasts are everywhere in Vegas – peering out of dresses, popping out on billboards, pressing us against poles (in advertisements everywhere)! And amazingly, I didn’t hear one person complaining. There was no news story about how many breasts could be seen, nobody got kicked out of a restaurant, and nobody seemed uncomfortable. Isn’t it crazy how breasts are acceptable if they are sexy, but unacceptable if they’re used for their REAL purpose — feeding our babies!!

Until next time…