John McLoone

From time to time, as I get older – an older I am getting – I need a break of a few weeks from my weekly message to you fine readers. The inspiration isn’t what it used to be. In short, I don’t do enough exciting stuff anymore.

For decades, we chased four kids around, and that was always exciting. I had plenty to write about. I was young, had hair that wasn’t gray and the mental maturity of a 20-year-old. I didn’t have a lot of hair. That mostly left me in my early years, but I did from time to time even have to go to a barber.

My excitement now is a little more low key, and that’s the problem. We have five or six shows we’re in the midst of, and last weekend, we spent much of Friday night and Saturday watching the entirety of a different series.

We aren’t obviously chasing kids anymore, but even better, grandkids. I was sprung from my personal exile last weekend with an invitation to meet two of them for lunch. My bride was invited as well, but she was under the weather. I walked into the restaurant and was greeted warmly and then quizzed: “Where’s grandma?” One of them even ran past me when I walked around the corner in the restaurant, looking instead for grandma. It was a great lunch, nonetheless.

This weekend, we’re privileged to be babysitting our newest granddaughter, who was born in June. Mom and dad worked the weekend, so grandma and grandpa came to the rescue. It was worth the four hour drive each way to perform our grandparent duties. I feel like when my kids were younger, I was very active in their care. As soon as they were consuming formula, I would get the nudge in the middle of the night, and I handled the feeding dutifully. I could change a diaper, though I admit that I tried to time the kids’ drop off at daycare with when I knew something major was about to transpire. That’s smart parenting, in my mind.

I’ll admit on this babysitting adventure, I’m not quite as active in participation of meeting the various needs of the baby. Grandpa could handle holding her when she was in good spirits, which was most of the time. At one point, my wife was juggling a couple tasks, and the baby was on the changing table. “You may have to handle this,” she said. I walked over, and the baby was in a good mood, which to me meant she didn’t need any urgent care from me. Soon, I was relieved from duty of making goofy sounds next to the changing table.

From the standpoint of this grandfather, it’s a lot easier at this stage of life. My babysitting adventure consisted of being around a happy kid, reading two books and catching up on sleep, which I needed. I’ve battled a couple pesky ailments over the summer months that made sleep difficult. Last week, I received a message from an app on my phone showing that I’ve averaged four hours and 40 minutes of sleep over the last 26 weeks. I pushed that average up over the weekend.

All the various medicines I’ve been filled full of in the last few months did nothing. Two weekends in a row seeing grandkids was the necessary tonic.