Gracie Girl
Jun. 10th, 2018 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dedalus_1947You can’t fool me, I saw you when you came out
You got your momma’s taste, but you got my mouth
And you will always have a part of me
Nobody else is ever going to see
Gracie girl
With your cards to your chest walking on your toes
What you got in the box only Gracie knows.
And I would never try to make you be
Anything you didn’t really want to be,
Gracie girl
Life flies by in seconds.
You’re not a baby Gracie you’re my friend.
You’ll be a lady soon but until then
You gotta do what I say
One day you’re gonna want to go.
I hope we taught you everything you need to know,
Gracie girl
And there will always be a part of me
Nobody else is gonna see
But you and me.
My little girl.
My Gracie girl.
(Gracie: Ben Folds – 2005)
Standing guard in the middle of our cul-de-sac street, I watched the two little girls skimming their scooters up and down the pavement. Seven-year old Sarah, her blonde hair peaking out from under her helmet, was by far the more experienced rider, literally scooting circles around her four-year old sister, Gracie. She maneuvered in and out of driveways, and slalomed her way across the street. I had briefed them both about my warning whistle, which indicated an approaching car, and had tested them a few times. After 10 minutes of this, I could see that Gracie was getting more and more annoyed and frustrated at her older sister for not slowing down and letting her catch up. She finally stopped her scooter in the middle of the street, scolding Sarah for not being a good sister, and walked the scooter back to our driveway. Wearing her Minnie Mouse helmet, Gracie stormed into the house and soon reappeared, holding an old, unused cell phone. She sat herself down comfortably on the driveway near the lawn and started played with it, looking up periodically to see what Sarah was doing. Sarah, in the meantime, had encountered a teenage boy riding a skateboard at the far end of the street, and started chatting with him, as they rode up the street toward us. Sarah, obviously proud of having made a new friend, introduced the boy to me as Kyle, a high school student whose family was renting a house on our street. Our neighbors soon joined us on the street, and quickly encouraged their two children, with their two cousins, to mount their own skateboards and bikes and join the fun. With this infusion of new friends, Sarah scooted off again, starting new conversations. As I looked over my shoulder, checking on Gracie, I saw that she was now actively chatting with Kyle, who had joined her on the driveway pavement. In animated fashion, she was telling him of an imaginary adventure searching for treasure through a magical forest with rivers, caves, and houses. After a momentary break to check on Sarah, who was again at the far end of the street with the neighborhood children, I looked back at Gracie. She was now sitting next to Kyle, intently gazing down to see what he was drawing on a pad of yellow paper. Brushing back her lightly streaked brown hair from her face, she occasionally pointed at the drawing, as though directing Kyle’s action. By this time, Kathy had come out of the house, and was talking with both Gracie and Kyle. With our neighbors guarding the street as the children rode around, I curiously joined the trio on the driveway to find out what had been going on.
As I approached, Gracie looked up, taking the yellow pad from Kyle, and ran to me, excitedly showing me a pirate treasure map, and explaining what Kyle had drawn for her. It was a circular route of dotted lines, interspaced with sketched representation of figures and objects along the way. These, she explained, were the drawings of the people and places she had described to Kyle about the adventure she had imagined. I marveled at her language and imagination, as she described characters and a drama that was a mixture of movies, stories, and television programs.
“X marks the spot!” She concluded proudly, beaming a victorious smile at me.
I was amazed. Our little Gracie Girl was growing up, and I was beginning to see her in a new way.
Kathy and I had finally worked up the courage to host our first sleepover with both our granddaughters. It took us a while for us to come to this point, having slowly and incrementally built up our sleepover confidence over time – first with Sarah, a couple of times, and then with Gracie and her mother Teresa (Prisa). Although we babysat both girls on occasions, it was with the knowledge that their parents would be returning, and we only had to keep them busy and entertained for a few hours. An overnight stay with both of them was altogether another matter because the two girls are so different in their preferences and choices, likes and dislikes. As the evening progressed, with Kathy and I tag-teaming our approach of keeping the girls occupied and entertained, I was struck by the realization that I had written only two personal essays about Gracie, while producing 16 about her older sister Sarah. Like a thunderbolt, I feared that this fact could become the source of potential quarrels between them over who was their grandfather’s “favorite”. It reminded me of the rivalries between my own brothers and sisters when we argued over which child our parents loved most. When Kathy and I had children of our own – who were 2 years apart in age – we tried downplaying the idea of sibling rivalry by stressing that we loved and treated Toñito and Prisa the same – equally and fairly. That was our official parenting line, and we stuck to it, year after year, even when we realized that it was flawed. You can love your children unconditionally, but you can’t treat them the same, because children are distinct, and we react to them differently. They are dissimilar in sex, age, intelligence, ability, personality, etc, and parents have to take those variations into consideration when playing with, teaching, directing, or disciplining their children. So the “equal and fair treatment” line became our Santa Claus myth – we stuck to it, until Toñito and Prisa saw through it.
Gracie, you see, is a unique child, and she caught me unprepared as a grandfather. I thought I had mastered the duties and skills of babysitting until I started caring for her at the age of 4 months. I expected to simply replicate the schedule, actions, and interactions I preformed with Sarah – which I’d even written down in notebooks so as not to forget. However, Gracie never cooperated with my notes, plans, or itinerary. She slept for hours, preferring her crib to my arms. She awakened gradually, without crying, and kept herself occupied in the crib for long periods of time. In many ways Gracie was easier to care for as an infant – almost to the point of being boring. She had the special ability to entertain herself, giving me tons of free time – but I only felt left out. Our sole bonding times came during our stroller walks around the neighborhood, which I stretched out as long as possible. However, these walks would eventually end when she turned two, and preferred staying home or being driven. Her transition from bottle to solid foods was also different. While I could feed hand-feed Sarah her prescribed and predictable breakfast and lunch, interacting with her while she ate, Gracie preferred feeding herself, pointing to and grasping the foods she liked, and ignoring those she detested. Once she was walking and could open the refrigerator door, she was choosing her own snacks and vegetables, as I sat back and watched. She would also dress herself. I was used to selecting the wardrobe for Sarah, or at least giving her options from which to choose. Gracie would have none of that. She picked the shoes, dresses, and jackets, regardless of their appropriateness to climate, activity, or time.
Gracie had a more difficult time separating from her mother. While Sarah was eager to say goodbye to her departing working parents on the days I babysat, for about 3 years, Gracie was upset at seeing her mother leave in the morning. To avoid emotional meltdowns, we developed elaborate morning strategies to insure that only her father Joe was present on the days I cared for her. Once together, she was comfortable and happy in my company, but her preferences routinely demolished my agenda of activities. I was forced to be very flexible and accommodating – to the point of considerable irritation. Once she was talking, I learned quickly that I could not bargain with Gracie or give her “either/or” options when determining our activities for the day. For example, Gracie loved watching morning television programs when I babysat, and I would agree – on the condition that after one or two episodes she would take a break to dress and get ready for the day. Although Gracie initially agreed, when I turned off the TV at the end of the show, she would renege on our deal and insist on seeing one more. If I refused, she’d have a meltdown. She would do this in a variety of places – in park playgrounds, malls, stores, or at home. I had to abandon the practice I’d perfected with Sarah in giving Gracie a list of possible activities to choose from, because if she didn’t like any of them, she was happy staying at home, playing in her room. When I recounted my frustrating interactions with Gracie to Kathy at the end of the day, she would give me a puzzled and amused look and exclaim: “You’re bargaining with a three year old child???”
My breakthrough with Gracie came in May of 2016, when I was ready to abandon taking photos of her over her constant refusal to pose. I had grown frustrated with this reluctance. As opposed to Sarah, who always had an eye for the camera and a ready smile, Gracie could care less, acting as if the lens was an intrusion into her private world. Most of the time, she would turn away or grimace. I’d accompanied Kathy to Sarah’s school, where she was being recognized as Honor Student of the Month in Pre-K. I’d taken lots of photos, and was ready to leave when Teresa asked if we would drop in at Gracie’s Nursery School for a Mother’s Day Reception. She couldn’t get away from school, and hoped we could fill in for her. I was a little apprehensive about accepting, unsure how Gracie would react to this substitution of grandparents for her mom, but Kathy accepted. Walking into her Nursery School with camera in hand, an aide directed us to a long, children-size table in a large classroom where a number of 3 year-old students were seated. There we spied Gracie chatting away gaily with students on each side of her. When she glanced up in our direction, a gleeful shout of “Poppy! Mima!” burst out, and she ran to us. I was snapping pictures like crazy, and the smiles on Gracie’s face were wondrous. She was completely oblivious to the camera. Since that morning, Gracie and I have come to an understanding with my camera. She reserves the right to be herself when being photographed, and I just have to be patient with her mood. Gracie doesn’t pose, and that somehow makes her photographs more honest and natural – and in many ways better. I’ve caught so many different moods in Gracie’s face that I shake my head in wonder. Who is this girl?
At one point during their sleepover, Gracie asked me if I would join her on a treasure hunt in the front yard, using her map. Sarah and Kathy were busy doing puzzles in the living room, so I agreed to accompany her, pleased that she had asked. As she guided me in and out of the hedges dividing our neighbor’s lawn, pausing at trees, bushes, and fences, she described the imaginary places they represented and the people. Trolls lived in that cave, she explained, and heroes and wizards hid behind that fence. At one point she stopped me, pointing up at a towering palm tree.
“Who lives there?” I asked in a hushed voice, wondering what character she would come invent.
“Rapunzel”, she whispered.
“How do we climb up?” I prompted.
Gracie cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” When nothing happened, she turned to me and said with a shrug, “She must be asleep”.
After 10 more minutes of these travels, ducking under bushes and tree limbs, I asked if we could sit down.
“Poppy’s old”, I explained, “I need to sit down for awhile”.
As we sat on the front porch bench reviewing our adventure, it occurred to me to ask a personal question, wondering how she would respond.
“Does Sarah act like the boss of you?” I asked.
“Well”, she replied with a sign, “she tries being the boss of me. But I don’t always let her”.
“Yeah”, I said sympathetically, “I bet it’s tough being a little sister”.
“Yeah”, she agreed, “it is”.
We sat together in silence for a while longer, and then went inside to join Kathy and Sarah.
Looking back now, it’s obvious that Gracie went through an early and protracted period of “the terrible twos” – that period around the age of two when toddlers begin speaking in two-or three-word sentences, walking, climbing, and understanding concrete ideas like “mine”, “no”, and “bad”, which they didn’t understand as infants. At its root, the terrible twos are about testing boundaries, asserting independence, and learning to communicate needs and desires – as well as recognizing that those desires may be different from those of their parents or grandparents. Children get older, growing, developing, and evolving. It took me awhile to remember the wisdom of patience, and give Gracie time to become Grace. She’s becoming quite an interesting person.
You got your momma’s taste, but you got my mouth
And you will always have a part of me
Nobody else is ever going to see
Gracie girl
With your cards to your chest walking on your toes
What you got in the box only Gracie knows.
And I would never try to make you be
Anything you didn’t really want to be,
Gracie girl
Life flies by in seconds.
You’re not a baby Gracie you’re my friend.
You’ll be a lady soon but until then
You gotta do what I say
One day you’re gonna want to go.
I hope we taught you everything you need to know,
Gracie girl
And there will always be a part of me
Nobody else is gonna see
But you and me.
My little girl.
My Gracie girl.
(Gracie: Ben Folds – 2005)
Standing guard in the middle of our cul-de-sac street, I watched the two little girls skimming their scooters up and down the pavement. Seven-year old Sarah, her blonde hair peaking out from under her helmet, was by far the more experienced rider, literally scooting circles around her four-year old sister, Gracie. She maneuvered in and out of driveways, and slalomed her way across the street. I had briefed them both about my warning whistle, which indicated an approaching car, and had tested them a few times. After 10 minutes of this, I could see that Gracie was getting more and more annoyed and frustrated at her older sister for not slowing down and letting her catch up. She finally stopped her scooter in the middle of the street, scolding Sarah for not being a good sister, and walked the scooter back to our driveway. Wearing her Minnie Mouse helmet, Gracie stormed into the house and soon reappeared, holding an old, unused cell phone. She sat herself down comfortably on the driveway near the lawn and started played with it, looking up periodically to see what Sarah was doing. Sarah, in the meantime, had encountered a teenage boy riding a skateboard at the far end of the street, and started chatting with him, as they rode up the street toward us. Sarah, obviously proud of having made a new friend, introduced the boy to me as Kyle, a high school student whose family was renting a house on our street. Our neighbors soon joined us on the street, and quickly encouraged their two children, with their two cousins, to mount their own skateboards and bikes and join the fun. With this infusion of new friends, Sarah scooted off again, starting new conversations. As I looked over my shoulder, checking on Gracie, I saw that she was now actively chatting with Kyle, who had joined her on the driveway pavement. In animated fashion, she was telling him of an imaginary adventure searching for treasure through a magical forest with rivers, caves, and houses. After a momentary break to check on Sarah, who was again at the far end of the street with the neighborhood children, I looked back at Gracie. She was now sitting next to Kyle, intently gazing down to see what he was drawing on a pad of yellow paper. Brushing back her lightly streaked brown hair from her face, she occasionally pointed at the drawing, as though directing Kyle’s action. By this time, Kathy had come out of the house, and was talking with both Gracie and Kyle. With our neighbors guarding the street as the children rode around, I curiously joined the trio on the driveway to find out what had been going on.
As I approached, Gracie looked up, taking the yellow pad from Kyle, and ran to me, excitedly showing me a pirate treasure map, and explaining what Kyle had drawn for her. It was a circular route of dotted lines, interspaced with sketched representation of figures and objects along the way. These, she explained, were the drawings of the people and places she had described to Kyle about the adventure she had imagined. I marveled at her language and imagination, as she described characters and a drama that was a mixture of movies, stories, and television programs.
“X marks the spot!” She concluded proudly, beaming a victorious smile at me.
I was amazed. Our little Gracie Girl was growing up, and I was beginning to see her in a new way.
Kathy and I had finally worked up the courage to host our first sleepover with both our granddaughters. It took us a while for us to come to this point, having slowly and incrementally built up our sleepover confidence over time – first with Sarah, a couple of times, and then with Gracie and her mother Teresa (Prisa). Although we babysat both girls on occasions, it was with the knowledge that their parents would be returning, and we only had to keep them busy and entertained for a few hours. An overnight stay with both of them was altogether another matter because the two girls are so different in their preferences and choices, likes and dislikes. As the evening progressed, with Kathy and I tag-teaming our approach of keeping the girls occupied and entertained, I was struck by the realization that I had written only two personal essays about Gracie, while producing 16 about her older sister Sarah. Like a thunderbolt, I feared that this fact could become the source of potential quarrels between them over who was their grandfather’s “favorite”. It reminded me of the rivalries between my own brothers and sisters when we argued over which child our parents loved most. When Kathy and I had children of our own – who were 2 years apart in age – we tried downplaying the idea of sibling rivalry by stressing that we loved and treated Toñito and Prisa the same – equally and fairly. That was our official parenting line, and we stuck to it, year after year, even when we realized that it was flawed. You can love your children unconditionally, but you can’t treat them the same, because children are distinct, and we react to them differently. They are dissimilar in sex, age, intelligence, ability, personality, etc, and parents have to take those variations into consideration when playing with, teaching, directing, or disciplining their children. So the “equal and fair treatment” line became our Santa Claus myth – we stuck to it, until Toñito and Prisa saw through it.
Gracie, you see, is a unique child, and she caught me unprepared as a grandfather. I thought I had mastered the duties and skills of babysitting until I started caring for her at the age of 4 months. I expected to simply replicate the schedule, actions, and interactions I preformed with Sarah – which I’d even written down in notebooks so as not to forget. However, Gracie never cooperated with my notes, plans, or itinerary. She slept for hours, preferring her crib to my arms. She awakened gradually, without crying, and kept herself occupied in the crib for long periods of time. In many ways Gracie was easier to care for as an infant – almost to the point of being boring. She had the special ability to entertain herself, giving me tons of free time – but I only felt left out. Our sole bonding times came during our stroller walks around the neighborhood, which I stretched out as long as possible. However, these walks would eventually end when she turned two, and preferred staying home or being driven. Her transition from bottle to solid foods was also different. While I could feed hand-feed Sarah her prescribed and predictable breakfast and lunch, interacting with her while she ate, Gracie preferred feeding herself, pointing to and grasping the foods she liked, and ignoring those she detested. Once she was walking and could open the refrigerator door, she was choosing her own snacks and vegetables, as I sat back and watched. She would also dress herself. I was used to selecting the wardrobe for Sarah, or at least giving her options from which to choose. Gracie would have none of that. She picked the shoes, dresses, and jackets, regardless of their appropriateness to climate, activity, or time.
Gracie had a more difficult time separating from her mother. While Sarah was eager to say goodbye to her departing working parents on the days I babysat, for about 3 years, Gracie was upset at seeing her mother leave in the morning. To avoid emotional meltdowns, we developed elaborate morning strategies to insure that only her father Joe was present on the days I cared for her. Once together, she was comfortable and happy in my company, but her preferences routinely demolished my agenda of activities. I was forced to be very flexible and accommodating – to the point of considerable irritation. Once she was talking, I learned quickly that I could not bargain with Gracie or give her “either/or” options when determining our activities for the day. For example, Gracie loved watching morning television programs when I babysat, and I would agree – on the condition that after one or two episodes she would take a break to dress and get ready for the day. Although Gracie initially agreed, when I turned off the TV at the end of the show, she would renege on our deal and insist on seeing one more. If I refused, she’d have a meltdown. She would do this in a variety of places – in park playgrounds, malls, stores, or at home. I had to abandon the practice I’d perfected with Sarah in giving Gracie a list of possible activities to choose from, because if she didn’t like any of them, she was happy staying at home, playing in her room. When I recounted my frustrating interactions with Gracie to Kathy at the end of the day, she would give me a puzzled and amused look and exclaim: “You’re bargaining with a three year old child???”
My breakthrough with Gracie came in May of 2016, when I was ready to abandon taking photos of her over her constant refusal to pose. I had grown frustrated with this reluctance. As opposed to Sarah, who always had an eye for the camera and a ready smile, Gracie could care less, acting as if the lens was an intrusion into her private world. Most of the time, she would turn away or grimace. I’d accompanied Kathy to Sarah’s school, where she was being recognized as Honor Student of the Month in Pre-K. I’d taken lots of photos, and was ready to leave when Teresa asked if we would drop in at Gracie’s Nursery School for a Mother’s Day Reception. She couldn’t get away from school, and hoped we could fill in for her. I was a little apprehensive about accepting, unsure how Gracie would react to this substitution of grandparents for her mom, but Kathy accepted. Walking into her Nursery School with camera in hand, an aide directed us to a long, children-size table in a large classroom where a number of 3 year-old students were seated. There we spied Gracie chatting away gaily with students on each side of her. When she glanced up in our direction, a gleeful shout of “Poppy! Mima!” burst out, and she ran to us. I was snapping pictures like crazy, and the smiles on Gracie’s face were wondrous. She was completely oblivious to the camera. Since that morning, Gracie and I have come to an understanding with my camera. She reserves the right to be herself when being photographed, and I just have to be patient with her mood. Gracie doesn’t pose, and that somehow makes her photographs more honest and natural – and in many ways better. I’ve caught so many different moods in Gracie’s face that I shake my head in wonder. Who is this girl?
At one point during their sleepover, Gracie asked me if I would join her on a treasure hunt in the front yard, using her map. Sarah and Kathy were busy doing puzzles in the living room, so I agreed to accompany her, pleased that she had asked. As she guided me in and out of the hedges dividing our neighbor’s lawn, pausing at trees, bushes, and fences, she described the imaginary places they represented and the people. Trolls lived in that cave, she explained, and heroes and wizards hid behind that fence. At one point she stopped me, pointing up at a towering palm tree.
“Who lives there?” I asked in a hushed voice, wondering what character she would come invent.
“Rapunzel”, she whispered.
“How do we climb up?” I prompted.
Gracie cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” When nothing happened, she turned to me and said with a shrug, “She must be asleep”.
After 10 more minutes of these travels, ducking under bushes and tree limbs, I asked if we could sit down.
“Poppy’s old”, I explained, “I need to sit down for awhile”.
As we sat on the front porch bench reviewing our adventure, it occurred to me to ask a personal question, wondering how she would respond.
“Does Sarah act like the boss of you?” I asked.
“Well”, she replied with a sign, “she tries being the boss of me. But I don’t always let her”.
“Yeah”, I said sympathetically, “I bet it’s tough being a little sister”.
“Yeah”, she agreed, “it is”.
We sat together in silence for a while longer, and then went inside to join Kathy and Sarah.
Looking back now, it’s obvious that Gracie went through an early and protracted period of “the terrible twos” – that period around the age of two when toddlers begin speaking in two-or three-word sentences, walking, climbing, and understanding concrete ideas like “mine”, “no”, and “bad”, which they didn’t understand as infants. At its root, the terrible twos are about testing boundaries, asserting independence, and learning to communicate needs and desires – as well as recognizing that those desires may be different from those of their parents or grandparents. Children get older, growing, developing, and evolving. It took me awhile to remember the wisdom of patience, and give Gracie time to become Grace. She’s becoming quite an interesting person.
