GrandPeople

Grandpeople populate my life. I have them scattered all over the country, but five are most important because they are right here with me. Jackie was very prolific. She had them every ten months, or every harvest moon, which ever came first. Once she got in the groove she began to have them two at  a time. Jackie could HAVE kids just fine. She just couldn’t KEEP kids! For some insane reason I idolized her. I stood by her through thick and thin. Couple little things I overlooked, though. The light of my life was a drug addicted little whore. CPS didn’t miss that one, however, and in due course they gave me a one hundred and twenty pound suppository! She finally has a sixth child and dropped that one off at a friend’s house. After a year or so the friend went to court and sued for adoption. Jackie  broke off her party long enough to run down to the courthouse and sign the papers.

So we were left with the other five.  I nickname all my grandkids. The youngest is called NewBaby because he was the last to be born in Jackie’s initial run. He’s the toughest because he’s the smallest.  He’s also the smartest. He has the ability to understand and use words that will amaze you. He’s also a task master liar! He sports two nicknames, the other being, “Hongry,” because he’s always hungry and most of his day is spent acquiring food. He’s very social and want’s to watch “T” with anyone who will sit with him. 

Next in line are the twins. I call them the “Sumos.” There’s a reason for this. They wrinkle their noses and will fight at the drop of a hat, a ball, a leaf, ANYTHING! They are also mechanically inclined. A toy, a radio, computer, vacuum cleaner, it doesn’t matter. If it can come apart the Sumos will figure it out. They also will confuse people as to their identity, and this goes for school, where when they get bored they will switch classes and the teachers will flip out. I have actually been called to school to identify them so they can be put back in the right class. I do it by looking them directly in the face. One’s head is slightly thinner than the other and we call him, “Skinny Head.” The Sumos are genuinely loving and find their way to my bed most every night. They get all excited at sun up because they get to go to school. They are attentive and interact with other children quite well, unless the other children want something they have laid claim to, at which time said unfortunate child will very quickly learn why we call them, “Sumos!” 

Then comes Bobby. Bobby really doesn’t have a nickname. Bobby is his birth name, but CPS always renames kids who are adopted out, even the ones who are picked up by family so we renamed him Justin. Well, he knew his real name was Bobby, and his new name was Justin so he calls himself, “Just a Bobby!” Bobby is very smart and sensitive. He’s getting up to that age where he watches after his little brothers and reports their activities ALL THE TIME! He likes to swipe a sip of coffee. I know, I know, but this is Texas, ok? He will dress you down in a heart beat, and the bad part is that most of the time he is right! When adults get bent out of shape, Just a Bobby will set things to right very fast. He controls everything will cool calm. Everything but big sister!

That brings us to PUCK! Puck is seven this year, going on twenty-seven. We don’t really know where the name, “Puck,” came from.  She just woke up one morning and informed us that her name was “Puck,” and the name stuck. She is a type one diabetic and that is her armor. When any crisis arises, i.e. food theft, she screams that she has to check her blood. Trump card! No matter what, you have to stop the presses and wait for her to check that blood. She prays for a low number because that equates to more food. And don’t try to lie to her. She has learned her numbers quite well and knows just what each one translates to. A fifty reading, for instance, works into a sandwich. She dreads a perfect reading. Tell her she’s one hundred and it will ruin her day. She is highly intelligent. When a teacher tried to force her to copy a sentence from the black board she complied. . . exactly BACKWARDS! Back to school we go, and the teacher tried to convince me Puck was possessed by the Devil! Hey, like I said, it’s TEXAS!

Most days I watch NewBaby, and we get along quite well. As long as the food and “T” don’t run out he’s cool. Weekends are the issue. Imagine all the above personalities at one time, and brothers and sisters, they are seven and UNDER! They bring new meaning to the word, “Constant!” Water and “Potty” are the two main things of the day. “I have to poop,” is a trump card that will get them into the house, all but Puck, who being a girl goes to the toilette whenever she needs to. Now the boys. . . well, like I said, this is Texas. They have a dog. He THOUGHT he was a bull dog until the Sumos fixed that, and now he’s a chiuaua. He snapped at a Sumo. Nothing serious, just a little tail pulling, but I caught the twins heading for the dog later with a pair of pliers. Don’t ask! The dog has since surrendered to simply living through the day and looking goofy. 

Water breaks are special. You HAVE to water kids, there are laws, but when you water THESE kids you wonder why! I’ve tried it all, from individual glasses, to big glass, jugs, ice with flavor on it and the ever present water hose. Nothing works. Always a fight. The trick is to keep the fight in the yard and not the  house. You never water a little Texan in the house. Don’t try to feed them there either! When you feed these kids you must “distance” them. Twice arm’s length is the standard, but Puck is special. She has an eight inch tongue and can hover over a plate, snapping the food like a lizard, sending the Sumos into a rage. They will start screaming, “Puck stole my FOOD,” while she shows you her empty hands and swallows the fry she just sucked up. She’s substantially larger than the twins, but there are TWO of them, and when both wrinkle their noses and get up she runs screaming, and God, she can scream! And she has articulate language. She will scream, “God help me, I don’t wanna die, or call 911,” in a grown woman’s voice. We have trained the neighbors, and they expect this. 

Years ago I worked at Sears. I took calls all  day, dispatching repair to customers all over the country and one day I got a call from an old lady in Memphis. Her washing machine was down and she had six “grand babies” to look after. She explained to me that her daughter had been killed by a drive by and she had taken the children to raise. I expressed my sympathy, and told her I would have her washer up in no time. Then I told her, “I know that’s hard looking after all those kids,” and she said something I’ll never forget. She said, “Wilbur, my daughter died years ago.  It’s true I’m getting up in years, and when they were little it was a bit rough. But I did it. I took care of them, now they take care of me!” That’s the way life is supposed to be. Jackie missed that.