Tag Archives: grandchildren

Megalodon Fossil Tooth

(If only my granddaughter’s tooth brushing was this joyful.) AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/XQYWuY (Example of what the tooth looked like that my grandson found.) https://images.app.goo.gl/EmtGmtXMyrbHvq2t8

My grandson Julian (6 years old) found a giant fossilized megalodon tooth in the backyard today. He brought his prize to show me, and it was quite impressive. It is probably the biggest limestone shark tooth I have ever seen. I suggested he go show Grandad (91 years old) and get a second opinion. I don’t think Grandad played along as well as I did, so Julian took it back outside to do some more excavating and promptly misplaced it.

Speaking of teeth, Charlotte (my 10-year-old-in-8-days granddaughter) has a loose one—I believe it is #8, a canine. She likes to wiggle it in the mirror and point out that she only has 2 baby teeth left in her mouth. How time flies. I remember when she was first cutting her little tiny teeth on her bottom gums and we were super excited. Now she’s old enough that I spent over an hour on the phone with Apple tech support trying to get the parental controls set up on her phone so we could figure out which objectionable content to allow and which to block to help with internet safety. One issue was that I apparently set a password years ago and forgot it. We tried everything we could think of, but the Apple people were stumped. There was no fixing it. We finally gave up and decided it was unsolvable. A few hours later, on a whim, I typed in 1,2,3,4, and it worked. So embarrassing.

Julian brought me half a Mini Coke with a straw in it yesterday.

“Here you go, Ema. You can drink this because I joined the army and can’t drink sugar anymore.”

Woohoo! I like this game. Apparently, Charlotte was his drill sergeant and got him drinking water only. She had him working out and doing obstacle courses all day long. I bet his little muscles are sore today.

Charlotte convinced Julian to wear a bonnet to bed the other night like she does. Her curly coils have to be protected by a silky wrap at night to keep them from getting frizzy or damaged. Julian has the complete opposite texture hair. But with Charlotte’s application of who-knows-what-goo and some little twists here and there, Julian awoke with one or two curls on his head. He was very proud of them. I was impressed he made it all night in the bonnet.

This morning, Charlotte made Julian the Coraline breakfast special. I have never seen the movie Coraline, but Charlotte is obsessed with it. Julian lucked out. All by her little self, she made an egg and cheese omelet, 3 slices of bacon, and toast with jelly. It was a masterpiece. This is the same girl who melted onto the floor in a puddle the other day when I asked her to push the vacuum a few times. She literally did one strip of carpet before collapsing from the difficulty of the task. The next time she acts helpless, I’m going to remind her how capable she is when she wants to be.

Julian pulled a prank on us today. He was at the top of the stairs, and Charlotte and I were in the kitchen area.

Suddenly, we heard his pitiful little voice whimpering, “Help me, help me. I can’t see. Everything’s dark. I can’t see. I need help.” He was really laying it on thick.

Charlotte headed his way to see what kind of a bind he had gotten himself into this time. She returned just as quickly, marching with her hands on her hips, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Julian appeared around the corner with his sweatshirt pulled up over his face like he was either trying to put it on or take it off; I’m not sure which. He was laughing so hard at his own joke that he ended up making us laugh, as well.

Grandad informed me that he was taking Charlotte to McDonald’s. She convinced him to take her to McDonald’s so she could spend her own allowance money on French fries. I tried not to be irritated. She already asked me and I said no. I told her to go make her own fries out of the perfectly good potatoes and oil we have here at home. They are easy to make in the air fryer. Grandad is a pushover when it comes to that girl. He was my grandfather first, and he never would have stopped what he was doing to take me to McDonald’s when I was a kid. He would have lectured me on saving my money and not begging all the adults all the time to take me places.

But honestly, I love that he has softened and spoils my grandchildren rotten (his great-great-grandchildren.) Every kid deserves at least one adult in their lives that is wrapped around their little finger. Mema was my person (Grandad’s wife of over 70 years and my grandmother.) She would do anything for me. Knowing that kind of love made me a strong woman who knows how to ooh and aah at shark teeth rocks and 10-year-old-in-8-days loose teeth for my own grandchildren. It all comes full circle if we put in the time and effort to be present in each other’s lives. And Charlotte is right that McDonald’s fries are way better than homemade. The girl knows her fries.

Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio

Christmas Breakfast

(Poem 360 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photo taken 12/25/24 by my sister-in-law Brittany Hefner.

Christmas morning
was all the fun and family
it should be this year,
with 3 little ones
to enjoy the excitement
of gifts and games.

The grown-ups sat
around drinking coffee
and feasted on homemade
cinnamon rolls, egg tater tot
casserole, mountains of bacon,
biscuits and gravy,
eggnog bread pudding with
eggnog whipped cream.

There was just the right
amount of silliness
and chaos and squeals,
and plenty of laughter,
as we all reconnected.

We continued the tradition
Mema liked to share
from her childhood—
orange, apple, pecans,
walnuts, and peppermints
in everyone’s stockings.

Mema would be pleased
that Grandad was right
in the middle of it all,
and was as thrilled as
a kid to open the biggest,
brightest flashlight
known to man as a gift
from one of his grandsons.

Last night, neither Grandad
nor I could sleep. His legs
were hurting and restless,
my cough was keeping
me up, so we were wandering
the house like ghosts at 2am.
Come look, he said,
after swinging open the back
door, standing in the
doorway in his pajamas.
Feel how heavy it is,
he said as he handed his
new toy flashlight to me.
Well, turn it on, he said.
I pushed the button
and nearly gasped as the entire
yard all the way to the barn
was bathed in daylight.
It felt magical,
such power in the palm
of my hand.

Mema would have swatted
both our behinds,
and loved that we are all
taking care of each other.

@Home Studio – 360th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Christmas Breakfast photos to accompany my poem:

Photos taken 12/25/24 by my sister-in-law Brittany Hefner.

Bird Calls

(Poem 345 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/te3J3b

I was reading a Mary Oliver
poem, as I tend to do
and the theme was birdsong,
as her poems tend to be,
and I was transported—
looking out the open window
of my grandson’s room
when he lived with me
as a baby,
our routine as simple
as one, two, three,
me holding him
him looking at me,
waiting for my imitation
of the bird call of the morning.

I was quite impressed
with my mimicry,
as was he.
The bird would sing to us
and we would respond.
If I took too long,
my grandson would grunt
to hurry me up.
A proper reply must
be whistled off, woman.

I’d forgotten that I learned
three different bird calls
during our shelter-in-place
COVID season,
probably the accomplishment
I’m secretly most proud of,
even though I also got
my Master’s degree,
fostered my grandchildren,
taught remotely,
rescued an elderly cat,
and survived.

But those morning
conversations between
the birds, my grandson,
and me—

@Home Studio – 345th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Bird Calls photos to accompany my poem:

Mean Girls

(Poem 232 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/SD7SWc https://gencraft.ai/p/rFOMfX

My granddaughter admitted
school was off to a rough start.
I asked her what was wrong,
and her answer broke my heart.

She said there was a mean girl
who was excluding her at lunch.
She had to sit all by herself,
which felt like a gut punch.

I asked if the only other
black girl in her class
stood up for her or reached out,
but that did not come to pass.

Why can’t children include others?
Why must they make it so hard?
I guess it’s human nature to fear,
and be a bully in the school yard.

We talked about some things to try
and a few days later I checked in.
Not only were things going better,
But the girl was now her good friend.

@Home Studio on – 232nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the Mean Girls photos to accompany my poem:

Inside Out

(Poem 211 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

If Joy and Sadness
go missing,
Anger, Fear, and Disgust
try to
take control.
And no matter how
hard we try to ride
the train of thought
to the solution,
it’s difficult to
escape danger
without sacrificing
little pieces of ourselves.
But the integration
of our most vulnerable
parts strengthens
our core memories
and allows us to reach
out from our islands
to embrace those we love.

@Home Studio – 211th poem of the year (After watching Inside Out with my grandkids and bawling like a baby.)

Docter, Pete. Inside Out. Amy Poehler, Pixar Animation Studios, 19 June 2015.

Brainstorm

(Poem 201 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/yq5fQF

Electrical misfirings initiate
honeycomb spirals of lightning
that cascade matrix-like through
the catacombs of the mind
disturbing the precarious balance
that is control of limbs, thought,
time, consciousness, and memory.
Two halves of one whole exchange
forked bolts resulting in prostrate
paroxysms of convulsant chaos.
Abject terror seizes the onlooker
whose own backfiring mainframe
cracks from the life-altering reality
that tranquility can be upset in a
split second by invisible storms
hidden deep within a beloved.

@Home Studio – 201st poem of the year (After my grandson’s seizure.)

Runner ups for the Brainstorm photos to accompany my poem:

Watermelon Sugar

(Poem 178 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photographs taken by Charlotte Sullivan & Rebekah Marshall 6/10/24

I love the taste of
my watermelon sugar
straight from the green rind.

@Home Studio – 178th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Watermelon Sugar photos to accompany my poem:

Pre-K Graduation

(Poem 142 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photograph taken by Lydia Sullivan

My grandson graduated from pre-K
and I was moved, not by his adorable
singing and dancing and attempt at
the gestures to match his teacher,
but by the tears flowing down his
mother’s cheeks while watching her
sweet boy performing his heart out.
When I see her love for her children,
I am transported to similar moments
in our past when I watched her or
her brother with the pride only a
mother can contain, so full of love
and joy and fear and anticipation
that nothing else exists beyond the
perfection of their little contribution.

@Home Studio – 142nd poem of the year

The Many Faces of Julian

(Poem 134 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

There’s nothing better than
candid shots of a 5-year-old.
The sublime modeling poses
inspire joy – pure silliness gold.

Everyone else might smile or
throw awkward peace signs.
Not a 5-year-old, oh no, their
forced presence turns to whines.

And if you know what’s good
for you, you’ll let them leave
because if you think you’ll get
good pics, you are really naïve.  

@Home Studio – 134th poem of the year