Who Are These People?

Have you ever spent time with your adult children and wondered, Who are these people?

Are these the people I raised? Yes, they are. Despite your efforts to instill manners, neatness, and teamwork, it didn’t take hold.

When they were growing up, they pretended to listen and obey. Now that you are no longer “the boss of them,” they conveniently forget and revert to the teenagers who lived with you at one time. You remember the sullen, scowling ones? Never happy? Always hungry? Not speaking to you?

Now, they occasionally do speak to you – when they want something. Their faces reflect better moods than they used to. They seem to enjoy being at your house. In fact, they make themselves right at home. They descend upon the fridge and cram stuff they brought in there. The kitchen counter is now covered with snacks, sweets, and dips. I tell myself to shut up about the fact that I have no counter space to use, and enjoy the fact that they are finally sharing.

Their children (your grandchildren) are also here. Their messes and trash are different from those of their parents, but they increase the general chaos by forty percent, and the volume by seventy percent. Somebody wants to watch SpongeBob, but the others want to watch Star Wars. Grandpa and I want to turn the TV off. They don’t need a TV. Each one has a phone, they can play apps, watch shows, and Google things.

With the youngsters’ content, I notice that the older kids have ADHD. While they play a card game, they commandeer my Alexa Dot and make her play odd songs – loudly. Someone decided to mess with the device’s programming, and now Alexa signed me up to buy music. Someone else is playing music from their phone at competing decibels. I would send everyone to their rooms, but we only have 2 guest rooms and 12 people.

It’s me who needs a time-out. The older I get, the more claustrophobic I am when it comes to noises, a lot of people, and clutter. Looking back to my younger days, I realize I have always been this way. It just gets to my nerves sooner now. It explains a lot about why old people are cranky.

Wanting to run away from home feels so wrong. I love each and every kid and their families. I look forward to their visits, and although I barely tolerate the chaos, I really do want them around. I miss them when they are not here. That being said, hubby and I are so used to being just us in our house. Us and, of course, our dog, Ziva. Our lives are quiet, with the occasional exception.

I can’t sneak out of here because my car is in the garage and blocked by other people’s trucks, Jeeps, and a patrol car. Where would I go anyway? It is dark now, and nothing is open. I am not supposed to be driving at night, so there is that. We also do not go for walks when it is dark. Our neighborhood is DARK. There are no street lights. And nocturnal creatures come out of the forest at night. Some are very BIG.

I realize my options for calming down are a hot shower and winter pajamas. I feel better just thinking about this. As for the noise, I remember I have earplugs. I wish I had thought of this sooner…

TTFN

Say It Isn’t So

Just when we thought the work on our street was nearly finished, we learn that it really has only begun. Now, they are ready for the BIG machines to come in and make REALLY BIG HOLES. From September through November, it turns out.

Oh, they have begun to prep other streets around our neighborhood, and have seriously damaged the one road we were taking to get off our road and into town. Last week, we had to take a different route to town every day. Every day, I had to rely on my Apple CarPlay to navigate me – whether I was coming or going.

Some residents just stopped going anywhere, unless it was Sunday and the road crews were off work. Sure, the potholes and metal plates were still there, causing you to slalom down the mountain. However, the streets were free from roadblocks and detours. No GPS guidance necessary. Even for me.

It started July 10th, 2025, and wrapped up the week before Thanksgiving. Meaning PG&E is finished burying their power lines. We don’t know if the cable or telephone companies will follow suit. If they do, it will be next summer. For now, our neighborhood is ours again. I did not realize how possessive I am of our neighborhood.

I understand now why I was so angry about it. It was like I was being violated when our streets were torn up, and our cul-de-sac was an equipment and materials parking lot. Even getting lost every day was not as disturbing as the fact that residents were not told in advance, or informed of what would happen when. It was as if we were not there.

TTFN

Camping & Conventions Do Not Mix

To clarify: Camp Grandma and any conflicting events are not advisable. Upon returning from the annual convention, I found a messy house and a very unhappy camper.

My hubby.

The same man who assured me things would be fine, go ahead and go, blah, blah, blah, had an aloof and irritated manner under the surface. I recognized this because I also am a pouter. Although he urged me to go, he seemed resentful that I was not there to run things.

Everything ran smoothly, no one was hurt, arrested, or otherwise. But I was not there. He could not depend on me to handle things. You know, the things that he pays no attention to when I am there. Many things are handled that he knew nothing about. Until I wasn’t there to handle them. Bad Grandma.

When resentments build up in your mind, they eventually find their way out. While the dust settles, a tense, misty-eyed silence ensues until the one who exploded approaches and explains what just happened. We quietly explain our emotions. Then we hug and make mental notes to ourselves to pay more attention to each other’s feelings in the future.

Even strong, loving relationships can hit a momentary roadbump. Humans are not perfect beings. We all know this, and yet somehow we expect the ones we know and love to be.

Which is completely ridiculous.