I am a rule follower. I like it when people have schedules and adhere to a routine and do what they say they're gonna do.
Except when I'm being Gram. In the case of being Gram, I realize schedules and routine don't particularly matter to me. We sort of "fly by the seats of our pants" when we're together.
I say what I mean and mean what I say. I'm a teacher, after all. When I ask a student to do something, I expect that to be done or there will be a consequence.
Except when I'm being Gram. The Little Girls get all the chances to meet my expectations they need. And if they decide they don't want to do it at all, I'll forgive them. I'll do it for them. I'll hug them while I do it for them.
I like a tidy house. Yes, I do. I enjoy the staging of certain holiday items with my regular decor. I worry about dog hair under chairs and dead bugs in the corners. I feel guilty about window sills and panes. I pride myself in keeping things picked up on a "as we go" basis so the housekeeping doesn't get on top of me.
Except when I'm being Gram. It gets pretty bad (and FAST) before we get around to picking up after ourselves. When we're playing, let the Monopoly money fall where it may. We might need it again when we're pretending to take train trips to "Beechago" (Chicago) and Hawaii and Alaska and San Francisco...all of these in the mind of a five year old. She stops the train in Chicago to go to the American Girl store and begins to shop the upstairs playroom for items she bought. Magnolia follows suit, gathering doll clothes and blankets and decks of cards she purchased as well. Oh well. They'll all get put back eventually.
This is no where close to the way I was as a young mom. I mean, that's where these rules started working for me. So what is it about being a grandparent that makes normal, structured people become so wishy-washy?