New Release: Casket Girls (Cities of the Dead, book one)

In New Orleans, the cemeteries are filled with above-ground tombs that resemble tiny houses. Some people call these cemeteries “cities of the dead.” Casket Girls is the first book in the Cities of the Dead series.

Buy Casket Girls Now!

The summer of 1728 was a dreary time in the fledgling settlement of New Orleans. The men were lonely and morale was low. Work was at a standstill. If the king wanted a picturesque town that would lure new settlers, he had to find a way to motivate the bachelors.

The settlers were excited when they learned that the Le Pelican carried prospective brides, but the new arrivals quickly turn the town upside down. Jacques never believed the stories of vampires in the new world, but he knew there was evil among them. His determination to reveal the truth behind a murder leads to another murder, and the town is torn apart. The casket girls are labeled as vampires and become the target of many. They need a true hero to save them from an angry mob, but do vampires or heroes exist?

This novelette is just the right length for an evening read. Buy the book and leave a review, please!

Buy Casket Girls Now!

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An unfair trade

Sometimes in life people experience terrible things. It’s so much worse when your kid experiences a terrible thing. As a parent, you hate to think of your child dealing with pain that you can’t fix or take away. Our situation could have been so much worse, and we’re thankful it was not, but it wasn’t a walk in the park, either.


Bear with me. There is a point to all this rambling.


My son spent a great deal of 2015 in and out of the hospital. He was 16 at the time. He had seven surgeries between April and December. He had a nephrostomy tube from May 5 to August 3. He had multiple stents that caused bladder spasms, and he had to take antibiotics every day through this entire process, trashing his immune system. Bloody urine, trouble going, pain, and draining the kidney through the nephrostomy tube had become the norm.


The summer break between his sophomore and junior year was ruined. He couldn’t play basketball. He couldn’t skateboard. He couldn’t swim. Even showering was a huge production that took a lot of effort.


He missed a great deal of the last semester of his sophomore year. He had to go to summer school between surgeries because of the time he missed. He seriously started summer school three days after one of his surgeries. He missed a great deal of the first semester of his junior year, and now he is in summer school to make up for it - again. He tried his best not to miss school, even going in pain and riding in a wheelchair on many occasions. His 4.3 GPA was tanked by all the time he missed, and he has been sorely upset by this. Don’t get me wrong. He still has a good GPA, but it isn’t what it was before and it bothers him a great deal. He is working very hard to raise his GPA as much as he can. (That's the kind of kid he is. He scored a 24 on his ACT and was upset because he expected to score higher. He's an overachiever.)


On October 29, 2015, my son, who was 16 at the time, had a partial nephrectomy. Part of his kidney was removed. It’s a painful surgery. This poor kid had an awful year. He had surgery almost every month. He was always recovering from a surgery and several times had another surgery while he was still recovering from the last surgery. He suffered. He lost 14 pounds in four weeks after his partial nephrectomy, and this kid was already skin and bones.


He was in a great deal of pain many days throughout this entire process. The kid had it bad. Still, he never complained or felt sorry for himself. I think he worried about me more than he did himself, at times. No matter how awful things were, he went in with a smile on his face and dealt with it. He suffered more than he should have at times because he refused his pain meds so he could concentrate in school. I cannot truly explain how terrible things were nor fully describe what he endured. I just can’t. It was bad. Our hearts broke for him, but he comforted us instead of feeling sorry for himself. That’s what kind of kid he is.


Today, he is 17 and gearing up for his senior year in high school. He is thinking of college and has gone back to work. He’s a perfectly normal teenage boy, but I am reminded of his courageous battle every time he removes his shirt and I see his scars. My husband and I have felt so bad for him. Part of us still does and likely always will.


My son doesn’t ask for much. He really doesn’t ask for anything. He’s just a good kid. When he started talking about saving up to buy a certain kind of car he liked, my husband took note. The kid has a small truck, but it is quite a gas hog. It makes sense for him to have a car that gets better gas mileage when he heads off to college. When our son decided he really couldn’t afford to buy a car when he is preparing to be a broke college kid, hubby still kept looking without saying anything about it. He found one, and he decided to buy it. Now my son is riding around in a BMW. My kid has a nicer ride than I do. By default, my son’s truck is now considered my primary ride.


Anyway...


Here is the point to my lengthy rant:


My husband works very hard to provide for us. He does. He would consider 40 hours a week a part-time job. That’s how much he works. He doesn’t do this because he has to; he does it because he wants to. He wants to because he wants to do nice things like what he just did for our son. He bought our kid a beautiful BMW that he has dreamed of since the days where he could do nothing but sit around and dream of things. We don't need permission from or the approval of anyone to spend our money how we see fit. Stop and think about your words. This poor kid has really been through the wringer, and he deserves something nice after all he has been through. If you look at it any other way, rethink your thinking.


On to my complaint...


There are people who have made rude comments about us buying such a car for our son. There are people who think we’re showing off, being braggarts, or just plain thumbing our noses at others by buying such a nice car for a teenager still in high school.


I say this to you:


I have no idea why anyone thinks they are entitled to have a say in how we spend our money or what we buy our children. No clue on that, but I’ll be happy to return the favor and give you financial advice if you feel you have the right to speak about our finances. I also have no idea why some think we shouldn’t be proud that we were financially able to buy this car for our son. My husband breaks his back every single day to have money to buy what he wants for his children. There is a difference in being proud and being a braggart, and it is pure pride in his ability to give his child something he deserves. He is proud he was able to give him something nice after all he has been through, and he worked hard to do it. He has a right to be proud of that. If you think we’re being silly buying our child such frivolous things or we’re spoiling him, then I can only say this:

The BMW only cost him part of a kidney.

That one statement should put things into perspective. It's not really a fair trade.

Best Wishes,

Gran


P.S. Tater Tot is growing like a weed, and she’s doing great. Visit Gran the Great on Facebook to keep up with our sweet gal.

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Gran's novel is done!

Gran has been preoccupied with her novel for quite some time now, but it's finally finished. This is not a children's book; it's a horror novel. 

At this point, I'm sure some of you are wondering what Tater is up to these days. 

She talks to Gran on the phone almost every day. She's fine. She's growing like a weed. Her vocabulary is amazing. She's learning new things every single day. She still loves reading books. She loves bubbles. She has become obsessed with hot dogs and honey buns. Her hair is getting longer, and she has a single little curl at the back. She's smart and sassy and funny. She's just a joy. I had to adjust to her being gone when Mama and Dada Tater moved into their own home, and it was tough on ol' Gran. But, back to Tater. She's growing up. Mama and Dada are now Mommy and Daddy. Gran is now Gan instead of Dan. Pappy, who is her favorite, is still Pappy. And she loves her aunt Ry-wee and uncle Cay-wub.

I'm sure some of you are happy to hear about anything other than my struggle with perimenopause. I'm sure of it. So, now you can check out my new book. 

Takaani is a horror novel. It's gruesome. It's gory. It's good. The horror and thriller genre is over-saturated by stories about zombies and vampires, so it stands out. The creature in this book is something that is not in any book or movie as far as I know. You've probably never heard of it, but it is based on legends. It's an entertaining read for anyone who enjoys horror and is seeking something fresh and new. 

Here is the book's description:

A scream breaks the silence of the midnight hour, and the blood of an innocent child is spilled.

The small Alaskan village of Kashega is terrorized when a beast on a murderous rampage slaughters their sleeping children. The distraught villagers know nothing of the creature, nor how to stop it, and they are desperate for answers.

An injured Eskimo hunter seeks shelter in the town, and his knowledge of the beast is their only chance for survival. The townspeople must somehow stop the slayings and restore peace before it destroys the entire village.

Here is where you can buy it. Oh, and if you are an Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited subscriber, you can read it FREE!

Buy Takaani Now!

I certainly hope you'll take a look, and if you take the time to read it, be sure to let Gran know and think about leaving a review, ok?

Best Wishes,

Gran

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Perimenopause will be the death of me.

Enough, already. Perimenopause sucks.

Some of you read my other post on ‘the change’ and how people have neglected to seriously discuss said changes. If not, here you go:

http://www.granthegreat.com/2016/03/nobody-warned-me-about-this.html

Anyway, I’ve had enough of this ride. Stop the train. I want off. 

I have been tracking my cycle since the last quarter of 2013. If you’re over 35, you should start tracking your cycle, too. If you visit a doctor to inquire about these types of issues, you’ll need to be able to tell them the average length of your menstrual cycle. You’ll also be able to see when changes started in your cycle. 

Back to my complaints: My longest cycle so far this year was 25 days. I know that sounds short to some, but for me that is a longer cycle. You would think those few longer cycles would be lovely, but it’s really not. It means you spend that many more days waiting for THE day, and the worry of it just gives you a lot more headaches. So, in 2016 I have had a 25-day cycle, a 23-day cycle, a 22-day cycle, an 18-day cycle, and a 16-day cycle. Now I have been blessed with a 13-day cycle. 

For those who don’t know how to count your cycle, start with the first day of your last period and count to the day before your period starts again. That is the length of your cycle. The first day of your period starts a new cycle.

A 13-day cycle - doesn’t that sound like so much fun? Yes. It’s still April and I have already had 6 cycles so far this year. For those of you who think this isn’t normal, and those who think menopause means you’ll for sure start having less periods until they just stop coming, let me tell you something: You’re probably in for a surprise. No, nobody told me this, but I’m going to tell you. What I am dealing with is more common. If you’re one of the lucky ones who had fewer or longer cycles, don’t feel the need to brag about it to me. I’m bitter, and I just might feel inclined to punch you in the throat. 

Why am I bitter? Nobody told me this could happen. People talked about hot flashes and mood swings and hair growth in unwanted places. A few talked about how good it was to stop having periods. I feel like I heard a lot of fairy tales, because this certainly isn’t what I was told would happen. I am going to attribute this to the high rate of hysterectomies performed in the last couple of generations. I am going to say they didn’t know about this part of the process, because if they did, not sharing this information to warn the rest of us is like a cruel joke. Surely they didn’t know. Surely these women couldn’t be that cruel, right?

Now I have had all the other symptoms of perimenopause. I went through some terrible night sweats and I have hot flashes from time to time. Everyone who lives in my house will tell you I’ve had mood swings. Just ask ‘em. Tweezers have been a necessity for some time now. Forgetfulness...oh, I’ve got that. I’ve had all the things you’ve heard women complain about and then some. What I haven’t heard anyone talk about was barely having one week without a period before another starts. When I say a 13-day cycle, that means I had my 5-7 day period (6 days for this one), then after I stopped I had 7 days before another started. 

I (wrongfully) assumed this was something that happened to women in their late 40s or early 50s. I started having signs in my mid-30s. I am 41 years old. I’ll be 42 in August. I didn’t expect this to be happening so soon. I’ve heard of women mourning for the passing of their childbearing years, even when they knew they had no interest in having more children. I had something similar when I had to have a tubal ligation. I assumed I would go through it all over again once menopause started rearing its ugly head. Who has time to think about that when they are rushing back and forth to the restroom fearing their cycle will show up - AGAIN - unexpectedly? Certainly not I. I’m ready for it to be done. End this. Take it away. I’m so over it. 

There will be some who suggest hormones. No. Just no. My maternal grandmother had breast cancer, and I won’t risk any kind of HRT. I don’t care that some say only certain hormones increase the risk. They thought that Gardasil vaccine was wonderful, too, didn’t they? Some will suggest birth control pills to regulate the cycle. No. No again. I am a former smoker and the risk of stroke is increased with smokers. I don’t feel that risk just plummeted to nothing the day I stopped smoking. I don’t, and I won’t take that chance. Of course there will be some who will suggest a hysterectomy. No. No, no, no. Much like the cesarean section (C-section) is used today when it’s not medically necessary, the hysterectomy is, and has been, an overused, elective procedure. I had an emergency c-section that was medically necessary. It’s major surgery and it shouldn’t be used unless it is necessary. It IS major surgery and wreaks havoc on a woman’s body. A hysterectomy is major surgery and wreaks havoc on a woman’s body. It is not medically necessary in my case and having a hysterectomy just to get rid of unwanted periods that are not causing a medical issue is entirely elective. This is a natural process. I am sure there are people who will disagree with my stance, and that’s fine. Everyone must make their own decision about what course they are comfortable with. I won’t try to convince you that your choices are wrong, and don’t bother trying to convince me that my choices are wrong because you’re not going to change my mind. 

So, here I am, sitting over here with the vocabulary of a caveman because I can’t remember simple words at times, plucking the newest chin hairs so I’m not mistaken for the bearded lady at the circus, running the air conditioning at a temperature that most consider cold (60 degrees), gobbling down chocolate and cookies while I wonder why I’m gaining weight, and yelling at the dog for breathing too heavy and breaking my concentration while I’m trying to remember what the thingamabob that you use to open the frigging door is called - all while I try to remember that I’ll need to pick up more feminine products in the next day or two. And my family wonders why I laugh at them when they tell me to remind them of something later. Thank goodness the dogs bark at me to remind me to feed them during the day.

I hope your journey during this lovely time they call perimenopause is smoother than mine, but please don’t feel the need to brag about it, okay?

Best Wishes,
Gran

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Buying Happiness

My husband loves to shop. I loathe it. He decided to waste nearly an entire day of our recent vacation shopping. I was not happy about it. I’m not going to change my mind and say I enjoyed shopping, but something good came of it.


Some of my favorite childhood memories are centered around my beloved grandmother, Mammie. I remember how much time she spent on her appearance when she left the house. Her wardrobe was filled with matching ensembles, and she had different pairs of shoes for different outfits. She had certain pieces of jewelry that she wore every time she left the house, like her gold coin necklace. In winter, she had a Canadian maple leaf pin that she wore on her colorful sweater. She would color her white eyebrows with a brownish-red pencil, put on her lipstick and rouge, and brush through her curly red hair. She spent a great deal of time keeping her locks red as they turned white over the years.


And then, before she walked out the door, she would pick up her purse. Mammie had an extensive collection of purses, but not just any old purses. She only bought one kind of purse, and she had all sizes and shapes in a beautiful burgundy color. Her cedar closet was filled with these purses. As a teen, I snarled my nose at her every time she offered me one of them, but oh how I wish I had but one of her beloved purses now that she is gone.


When we walked into one of the thrift shops my husband is so fond of, I decided to look through the purses and bags to find something small I could take along rather than lugging around the mom suitcase my purse had become. It was filled with tons of “hold these,” “keep this for me,” and “hang onto this” junk that always ends up being handed to you. If you’re a mom, you know what I’m talking about. After a while, a purse can get as heavy as a concrete block. I was ready for something small for the necessities. I wanted something small enough for just MY necessities.


As I looked through the bags hanging on the small rack, I saw the symbol. No way, I thought. There was no way. I picked it up for a closer look, and it was indeed a small Etienne Aigner bag. I ran my finger over the little horseshoe-shaped ‘A,’ and I looked inside to check the lining. It was the real deal. I knew the design on the lining so well after years of digging in my grandmother’s purses for butterscotch candies and cinammon Certs. I couldn’t believe I had found one on a rack in a thrift store. And there I was complaining about being forced to go shopping.


I am not going to lie and say I stopped complaining. I didn’t. What I will say is it made me smile. It brought back memories from so many years ago and caused me to let out a long sigh. I am not talking about an exasperated sigh; I mean a ‘those were the days’ sigh. It’s that special sigh that escapes when you relive a fond memory and your whole soul smiles a little.


Needless to say, I bought it. Every time I look at it, I smile thinking of the times I spent watching my grandmother get ready to go somewhere. So, if you think money can’t buy happiness, wait until you find something that touches your heart that has a price tag on it. I bought a little bit of happiness that day. Oh, and proceeds from the thrift shop supported local dog rescues, so happiness all the way around.

If you haven't already, stop by Gran's Facebook page to keep up with me and Tater Tot.
 

Best Wishes,
Gran

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Nobody Warned Me About This!

A lot of time is spent talking to young girls about the impending changes in their lives. Unfortunately, nobody talks about the changes that happen when you get older. Somehow society overlooked a very important discussion. I understand why depression and anxiety is a big part of the aging process. Nobody warned you what would happen.

Ask anyone about the aging process. Go ahead and ask. Most of the time you receive a tired look followed by a meek, “You’ll see.” Well, that ain’t cutting it, folks. It’s time to talk about the things nobody warned you about. I am sure there are still lots of things I don’t know about yet, but I can warn you about the things I learned on my own.

Becoming a grandparent is a grand thing. Everyone will tell you that. What they don’t discuss is what it feels like while you wait to become a grandparent. The entire pregnancy is as mentally tough on you as your own first pregnancy was. When you find out you’re expecting a grandchild, it’s okay if your initial reaction isn’t one of absolute joy. Don’t feel bad if you end up trying your best to force a smile on your face and pretend it’s the greatest thing that ever happened. Don’t think you are a terrible person for being overcome with a lot of emotions other than joy. Remember when the fear crept in during your own first pregnancy? It’s the same feeling, multiplied by the level of fear and worry that only an older mom can understand. 

Your mind goes off on a tangent. Am I ready for this? Please don’t let me turn into one of those people that feels the need to constantly correct the parents. When did I get this old? Am I really old enough to be a grandparent? Are the parents ready for this? How can I help them without being overbearing? Sheesh. Am I really this old?

The worry stops when the baby is born. No. No, it doesn’t. It’s not quite like the worry you had with your own firstborn. It’s different. (It’s worse.) Not only do you worry about the grandbaby, but you worry about the emotional well-being of the parents of said grandbaby. You worry because you know the fears going through the mind of a first-time parent. You understand what thoughts keep them awake even when the baby finally sleeps. 

Your own anxiety is compounded by thinking of their anxiety. And then you receive the first phone call - the very first “I have a question” phone call. It’s the same type of fear and worry you had with your baby, and your own anxiety starts to fade a bit. “I know this,” you think. “I know how to help.” You start to feel useful and needed again. You stop worrying as much because you feel confident the parents have it under control if they aren’t afraid to ask questions. They trust you enough to ask for advice. It is an affirmation that soothes away that terrible, awful fear every mother has: Was I a good mother? Wait until your child calls to ask you for advice about their own child. It tells you that you must have been a good parent if they trust your judgment.

I am not going to say all of your fear and anxiety will go away. If it does, I’m not there yet. I believe as mothers we are always worrying over something, and I don’t think it ever stops. I don’t think it is supposed to stop. And I’m okay with that now. Grandchildren are a different kind of worry. Oh, yes. You do have an overwhelming sense of pride and love, but there is always a bit of fear as well. No, it’s not just fear about the baby. You fear for the parents, too. People don’t tell you that. Some people will actually look at you with disdain if you appear anything other than ecstatic. I’m here to tell you the only way you don’t feel a sense of fear is if you’re emotionally dead. I don’t care if one parent is an obstetrician and the other is a pediatrician. You’re going to have fear, and that’s okay. 

Perimenopause and menopause are two totally different things, and it’s not what you think. Plenty of women think you just stop having periods one day and you have hot flashes, mood swings, and gain some weight. No. No, you don’t. There are some women lucky enough to go from normal periods to skipping a period here and there. There are surely a few even luckier souls who do stop having them suddenly and they never reappear. More often than not, you’re going to go through something worse. You’re going to have MORE periods. They’re going to be closer together, and you’re going to be angry about it. What’s the one thing about getting older than sounds great? No more periods. And what happens? They’re closer together. Why, oh why does this happen? 

Menopause means you haven’t had a period in over a year. Perimenopause is when you start having troubles, and this part can go on for years. Oh, and perimenopause is like puberty in reverse. Happy that acne was part of the past? Brace yourself. It appears again...and often with a vengeance. You’ll also learn the joys of hot flashes, night sweats, anxiety, heart palpitations that lead to more anxiety, worrying what you look like with acne, worrying about how you look with your new weight gain AND acne, worrying about when you’ll get your period because you never know and it always seems to be out of whack, worrying about...wait, what was I saying? Oh, yes. You’ll worry you are losing your mind because you can’t remember even the simplest of things at times - like words. I am not kidding. Did I mention you worry? Did I mention all this constant worry and stress makes you mad? Oh, and I haven’t even touched that lovely soft peach fuzz that covers your face or the way your face starts to look like it’s melting off your chin and cheek bones, much like the wicked witch when doused with water in the Wizard of Oz. 

Why don’t other women tell you about this stuff? It’s an inside joke, I think. Well, part of it is that the generation before us had hysterectomies in such mass numbers that they didn’t get the full experience of worrying over periods and most of them had hormone replacement therapy from the start to deal with their hormone factory being shut down with no notice. Ask a woman who didn’t take hormones or who suddenly stopped taking hormones. You’ll get a look that will straighten the curl out of your hair. That poor woman suffered. 

Another cruel joke - at a time where you want to feel more attractive and you worry your spouse may find your older self less than attractive, your nether region starts acting a fool. Oh, yes. Women have those “this has never happened before” moments, too. I’m not going to delve into details, but take a look around the Internet and find out about effects in the bedroom. I must warn you, though. It’s scary, and it is not for the faint of heart. Want to show your husband you are still that same young woman with gusto? Yeah. No. The Sahara Desert is no joke. Oh, and while parts of you get thicker, some parts get thinner. That’s all I’m going to say on this subject, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

Am I the only one who feels half-starved most of the time? I always ate like a bird, but now I find myself constantly uttering the words “I’m hungry.” I never crave anything good for me. Forget the idea that you’re going to choose to eat healthy and not gain weight. That’s what all those so-called experts say you are supposed to do. Think about that expert when you find yourself feeling like you will absolutely die if you don’t have another slice of that chocolate cake. I can guarantee you will think that expert got their degree from a Cracker Jack box. How in the world does a person eat healthy when the mere thought of that chocolate cake keeps them up at night?

I have heard women talk about bladder issues. I think most of us women experience some sort of bladder issues long before we are even close to menopause or even thinking about menopause. I can handle crossing my legs when I sneeze. That’s not a problem. My problem is these wretched bladder spasms. I haven’t heard anyone talk about these, but a bladder spasm has to be the absolute worst thing a person can have. When I started having them, I felt a new sort of pain. My teenage son recently had seven surgeries to deal with a kidney defect and he had these wretched spasms throughout the entire process. My experience with them has brought me to tears thinking about him enduring them during that time. I’ll explain it. Go to the bathroom, and go back and sit down. Now, get up and go every five minutes all day and all night because you feel like you have to go constantly. I’m not talking about the issues you have with a UTI. I’m talking about muscle contractions in the bladder that make you feel like you are about to burst. Suffer it out and let your bladder get full again, and it goes away. The discomfort you feel when you have to go really, really bad is far more preferable to the spasms. You will hold it until you look like one of the dancers from the River Dance when you finally make your way to the bathroom. 

I know I am forgetting things. I know I am. There is a lot to this joyous process, but my memory is fading. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m warning you because nobody warned me. Now, what was I saying?

Best Wishes,

Gran

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Back in my day...

I am a member of a well-known chain of campgrounds. I have been a year-to-year member for almost five years now, and we’ll soon acquire a lifetime membership. This isn’t about camping; it’s about people. Over the years that we have camped, we have met some wonderful people. We’ve also met one not-so-nice person and a couple of crabs. Overall, our experience has been great. I don’t use my experience with one person to judge how others are going to act. I have noticed that I am one of the few who judge people by their own actions instead of making sweeping generalizations. What's bugging me? Some folks don't think kids should be allowed to play. These people are happy to tell you that the little ones who dare to ride their bikes and play outdoors are disturbing their golden years. And I say to these people: Why did you choose to spend your golden years camping in parks geared toward families?

I am disturbed, but I understand why the world is the way it is today. It isn’t because times have changed. It isn’t because the world has changed. It is because we have quite a few people who believe their way is the only way and everyone else in the world is awful at (insert anything here). Now, this hasn’t changed. It has always been that way. The difference is the Internet affords everyone the opportunity to broadcast their opinion to the world, and the negativity is absorbed and spread. It’s often infectious. I’m here to tell you folks, the world hasn’t really changed. The only thing that has changed is that now you’re more aware of what’s going on beyond your own front porch. These same things have been going on since the beginning of time. It just wasn’t broadcast for the world to see. 

The truly sad thing is that the Internet is being used to create negativity and divide the masses. We have unlimited information at our fingertips. We have access to more information than ever before, and we know more about the world we live in than ever before. Still, we have plenty of people who are happy to wallow in ignorance and spew vitriol at everyone they encounter on the web. With everything we have access to nowadays, people are getting dumber, and they’re more vocal about everything.

Well, I’m here to let you in on a little secret. People have always chosen different paths. People have always done things differently than others. People have always done bad things. People have always shocked others with their choices. People always raised their children differently than others. The ‘back in my day’ way is the very same today, just packaged in different clothing and with new technology. 

Oh, it’s true. Children always played outside or sat in the house. There was always a ‘fragile little Billy’ here or there that spent most of his time indoors. There was always a worried mom who didn’t let her children roam far. There were always parents who sent their children out to play unsupervised. There were always children who generally behaved well and children who often misbehaved. There were delinquents in my day, your day, your mother’s day, and even your grandmother’s day. Oh, it’s true. Before the Internet appeared things were happening that you didn’t know about. The collective ‘back in my day’ stories from every town always include a few bad things. Some people prefer to simply gloss over it all as they reflect on simpler times. Grandma might not have had a food processor or a microwave oven, but she still had unsavory characters and unruly children in her day. 

My point is this generation is not different from others. The population has grown and this generation is larger. Every generation will grow. This generation includes in-your-face headlines that entice you to believe the entire world has gone mad. Wait until something happens in your neck of the woods. You’ll see what I mean. A sleepy, peaceful town can be seen as a den of evil in 2.5 seconds after the media arrives. This is the difference. 

I can hear it now. But, murder is... No, murder occurred shortly after man arrived on this earth and it grows as the population grows. But, kidnapping is... No, kidnapping occurred way back when. You just didn’t have Amber alerts broadcasting missing children, and it grows as the population grows. Heck, before milk cartons you only knew a child went missing if that child lived close to you. Back before the radio and television broadcast news all day everyday, you didn’t know what was going on in the world. Things haven’t really changed. It’s the same. The population has grown. We know what is going on in remote parts of the world instead of simply knowing what we heard while hanging clothes on the line or yapping at the fence post. 

Now, why do people expect children to be young adults all day every day? Can a kid not be a kid nowadays? ‘Children should be seen, and not heard.’ Children were seen and heard all over the place when you were a kid, just as they are today. You had children who were respectful of adults, and you had children who were not. It’s the same as today. You might not have seen those kids much back in your day because your mama told you not to play with this bunch or that, but they still existed. It’s okay for kids to be outside playing, and it’s okay for them to make a little noise. Yes, kids did that back in your day, same as mine. Kids will do it until the end of time. Kids haven’t changed. Tolerance for kids changed. “My mama woulda taken a switch to us.” Your mama told you to get your tail outside and go play, because your mama knew kids needed to burn off energy and blow off steam. Kids didn’t come in rowdy at night because they were too tired from playing all day. Oh, yes. You might have gotten that switch at times, but most of the time mama just kicked you out into the sunshine to get it out of your system. 

I’m not saying kids should be allowed to vandalize and terrorize. I’m not saying kids should be turned loose to wreak havoc on the world. I’m saying if little Johnny and little Betsy are out riding bicycles, that’s okay. 

People will complain if they are outside playing, but they’d complain if they sat inside playing games and watching television all day. 

“Back in my day kids played outside. They didn’t sit up under the air conditioning all day long. That TV rots their brains.” 

People will complain if they’re in the swimming pool making noise and having fun, but they’d complain if they were plopped down indoors not getting any exercise.

“Back in my day we didn’t have all these kids with weight problems because we played outside all day.”

People will complain if they’re straying out of their mama’s sight, but they’d complain if they stayed up under their mama all day.

“Back in my day we didn’t stay up under our mama’s skirt all day and that’s why we have a generation of wusses that don’t know how to do anything.”

Frankly, you can’t win. Someone will always find something to complain about. To the generation raising kids right now, let kids be kids and just raise ‘em up to love and respect others. To the generation who has finished raising kids, ease up on the criticism and remember kids are going to be kids - noisy and energetic. To the crabby folks who can’t stand being bothered by a child who dares to speak or do anything other than sit quietly in a corner, find your own corner and keep to yourself, okay? 

Oh, and to the fellow campers who can’t stand the fact that children are playing in that ‘resort community’ because you’re a member and have rights, too, and you feel you shouldn’t have to be forced to be around the young’uns: It’s not a fancy-schmancy resort. It’s a campground. Campgrounds are geared toward families. If you can’t stand being around children, find a 55+ park and shush it.

Best Wishes,

Gran

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