The munchkins came for a sleep-over with The Old Boy, Rex and me. As it’s summer time here in the Land of Oz, we decided after tea to take them to the beach for a swim and an icecream. We brought the Wonder Dog with us. I had visions of a nice stroll along the sand, perhaps letting the beast off the lead for a splash in the water with the kidlets, a soft sunset glow on the horizon…
When we got there we found the place was packed. Seems like every second person in town had the same idea. Finally found a park, unloaded the car and set off along the white soft sandy 50 metre path through the dunes to the water. The Old Boy carried the towels and a water bottle. I handled my walking stick, the dawg and a large bag. By the time I’d struggled through the sand the munchkins had already divested themselves of the outer layer of clothing and were in the water. I sank into the side of the dune and watched from afar, as I regained my breath. The signs said dogs had to remain on the leash. It was just as well as the beach was packed with fellow humans with leashed canines and the Wonder Dog was so nervous he climbed up my back and perched on my shoulders. He’s small, but he’s not that small. Stupid dog.
Got my breath back, picked up the stick, bag and leash and headed down to the water to help the Old Boy play lifeguard. After a while I realised we should have brought a chair. I keep forgetting what a (literal) pain that standing is for me. Nowhere to sit. Fought hard to remain upright, knowing that if I sat down in the sand they’d have to bring in a crane to winch me out. Eventually the sun began to go down, and the kids were lured out of the water with the promise of a ride in the amusement park. We began the trek back to the car, with me trailing the others by quite a distance. About 2 metres into the trail I thought, I’m not going to make it. Go on without me. Tell mother I love her. I sat down and then I sort of half lay down, draped across the edge of the dune. Such a ladylike repose. I think people who were walking past thought I’d been drinking…a lot!
The Old Boy, kids and Dawg came back and waited for me to revive, hovering around me like a herd of elephants waiting for the old matriarch to kick the bucket. The Wonder Dog kept sticking his wet nose in my ear; it certainly kept me alert. Finally, after several minutes, the faint/sick/I’m going to die feeling passed and I made my way to the car. We drove to the amusement park and the Old Boy took the kids to the sideshow and rides while Wonder Dog and I remained in the car. After a long while, they came back with icecreams. Mine fell apart as they handed it in through the window and it landed on the pavement. Oh well. Didn’t need it anyway.
While they were off having fun in the park, I watched the parade of humanity and canines: all ages, all shapes, different physical conditions. They all seemed to be having fun. They were doing normal things like walking, running, laughing, skipping, throwing balls… while I sat in the car, watching. I thought, What kind of a granny am I? I can’t even walk on the beach without nearly passing out. I can’t even go to the amusement park with the kids.
By the time we headed for home it was late and dark. The munchkins and I sang silly songs and they laughed and laughed until finally the Old Boy, with eyebrows raised at me, suggested it was “calm down time”. Once they were all in bed, including the Old Boy, and the dawg was snoring in my lap as I sat in my recliner waiting for the pills to kick in, I held a pity party for myself. It wasn’t much fun. There wasn’t any cake or moscato or balloons. It was all dark, dark, dark.
In the morning, I helped the little princess put on her earrings – some pink butterflies with bling that I’d given her – and she said, “You’re such a lovely Nanny.”
The sun came up, birds began to sing and, suddenly, I felt that perhaps I wasn’t such a useless Granny after all. Maybe, in spite of being a physical wreck, I still do something right and good in their lives.
Oh, that’s heartwarming Wendy! What a sparkle you must have had for the rest of the day. So glad your precious girl can see past the frailties to the heart of who you are… a lovely Nanny! xx
Thank you, Dorothy.
Great post. You are a lovely nanny. When my grandchildren came from Oz to UK over Xmas, all I could do was lie groaning on my back (sciatica). I was annoyed I couldn’t do normal things with them. But I was able to sew clothes for my granddaughter’s doll in my horizontal position. She looked at them, pleased, and said.’Did you sew these yourself?’ A little while later she said ,’Baba could you teach me to sew?’
You are a hell of a brave woman Wendy.
Thanks, Eva. I think you’re rather amazing yourself.
I love your blog. It’s funny as we get older and unwell, and we can’t do all the things we used to do, we think we’re useless. We just have to look for the things we CAN still do or look out for new things to do. We need to learn to look outside the “Box” and we’ll soon discover amazing things we CAN still do. Keep writing Wendy, you are SO GOOD at it.
Love ya! Cheers Pamela xxx
I agree, Pamela. We have to play with the cards we’re dealt, even though we’d rather be out riding a bike. 🙂
The purpose of grandkids is to teach us our mortality. Early in January we took the grandkids to the beach. It was a lovely small beach nestled between two headlands. I was with #1 grandson (4 years old). We walked on the rock platform looking for crabs and shells. He wanted to stand on some of the rocks that had fallen down. Around the base of the headland was a pile of large sandstone boulders all well weathered. I remembered how I used to scramble over these places when I was very small. I was showing him how to pick the flat paths or go along sloping rocks by finding the ridges and holes. We went higher for several minutes. Then we found a narrow track going upwards. We crawled up this on hands and feet and came out of a large flat rock. On the horizon were ships passing, which we hadn’t seen from the beach. I looked down and we were about 3 storeys up in the air. I tried to plot a way forwards and down. As I put out a probing foot I got my boot stuck in a crevice. I tried to pull it out but only ripped of half the sole and twisted my knee.
At that moment it seemed important to me that I get us down to the beach. The only way was back down the way we came up. So I persuaded #1 grandson to go that way. I went down on my back, sliding and jolting. He hopped from boulder to boulder like a monkey. I think I might wait about a dozen years before I try this again. At least then if something happens to me he might be able to carry me out.
On the other hand, I did something my creaky old joints are not really able to do, and got away with it.
I hear you, Ken…the inexorable passage of time. Sounds like you had a wonderful day with grandson #1 in spite of facing your mortality. 🙂
Wendy, fabulous blog. I understand every word you’ve said and feel exactly the same…..I think we’re from the same place, only I can’t write. xxxx I miss seeing you xxxxxxx
Right back at ya, Jo! 🙂