Kelle, Author at Enjoying the Small Things

How to Be a Grandparent

October 16, 2017 By Kelle

Of all the things I’m grateful that my kids get to experience, I don’t think anything compares to the moments they share with their grandparents. There isn’t a family dinner that goes by–a package of handmade goodies my mom sends, a story Brett’s dad tells Lainey, a sleepover at Brett’s mom’s house, a moon walk with my dad–that I don’t make mental note how lucky we are to have meaningful relationships with grandparents and so many memories stashed away. I have one living grandparent and she means more to me every day–and the memories of the ones who have passed have become comforting reassurances that often lead me home when I’ve wandered away from what’s important and what I want in life.

Each of my kids’ grandparents (we have 8 thanks to the blessings of remarriage and the beauty of family complexities) holds a special place and fills a unique role in our lives, but today I’m thrilled to be sharing a few of my dad’s words on what grandparenting means to him and his tips for maintaining a meaningful bond with the littles…no matter how old they are.

On Being Poppa
by Rik Cryderman

I’ve been introduced with titles I’ve been proud to hold, taken my place on the dais in the company of greatness, heard kind tributes that stirred my heart and made my eyes pool with tears, but there’s one word that melts me and finally tells me I’ve climbed to the summit of all I’ve longed to ever be…That word is Poppa.

It begins every sentence their little lips launch or their teenage fingers text. It heralds each announcement they share in my presence. It’s their personal password for plans they propose, “Poppa, maybe we could build a tree fort, you and me”…and, years later, “Poppa, can I bring my boyfriend to dinner on Thursday?”

“Daddy” was good—I thought nothing could be better, but “Poppa” tops it all, letting us do it all again, with a heart tendered by time, a mind enlightened by experience and a spirit humbled by age. And since my retirement, loving my grandchildren has become even more intentional, inspiring, invigorating. Listening to their uninterrupted narrative, attempting sound answers for their unending questions and accepting their sweet invitations to play, pretend, create and be amused—this trumps every greyhound tempting rabbit I ever chased in my career.

I have few memories of my own grandparents. Being the youngest in my family, I said goodbye to mine as a little boy, cherishing the few clear memories as treasures. The privilege to imprint my babies’ babies with some stories that will echo when I’m gone, some lessons that will teach when I’ve left, some love that will warm when I can no longer hold them close—that is a blessing sacred and strong. To know them, really know them, and to let them know you—therein is the precious and powerful passing of the baton, firmly in the hands of the tomorrow you cannot enter, except through the hearts of your grandchildren.

If I were to offer advice to one new to grand-parenting, I would tell them:

Bring your grandchildren home. Just them. Without their parents. Make them your focus. Listen. With your heart. Make them feel their words are wise and wonderful. Let them teach you. Let them try things. Let them fail. Let them try again. Be playful. Be silly. Don’t always be the wisest, the corrector, the one with the last word. Value their dreams, their differences, their dedication to the passions they pursue and the positions they hold. (It’s easier when they’re 10 and a Taylor Swift fan but more important when they’re 17, and at a Bernie Sanders rally). Be a safe listener. This is critical with the older grandchildren. While the toddlers’ antics and anecdotes are fun to share, the teen’s issues and queries should be guarded as treasures. Be a vault not a voice box—and they will continue to trust…and talk—sometimes sharing things with you they bring to no others. Learn their language, know their loves, plot the latitude of their life. I’ve got Toca Boca on my IPhone and Shawn the Sheep on my Firestick, but I also know what Coachella is and can decipher the cryptic captions on my cool teen granddaughter’s Instagram feed.

Tell them they’re wonderful, the brightest, most beautiful, the bestest of all (making up superlative words is perfectly acceptable). Read them bookshelves of stories, but employ bold volume and exaggerated cadence to bring them along. Change your voice, use an accent, falsetto, deep bass. And make up stories, with drama and details where they have the lead. If you scare them, hold them close and make the ending just perfect. If you want them to laugh, break the dyke on the silly—let it flow ‘til they shake! Decorum’s forgettable, but the ridiculous is remembered forever. Tell them stories where they are the champions, the winners, the greatest around. Let them know of your life—your strengths AND your struggles, your big moments AND your bumbled mistakes. Share your faith, without preaching, persuading or projecting. Share it as an anchor in storms, an ally in lonely times, a comfort in crisis. If it’s part of you, show them, let them know you.

Create rituals, like simple repeated activities you can almost hear them someday tell their children, “Poppa always let me make pancakes all by myself.” Keep their things in your home like you’re hoping they’ll come, and when they do, they’ll see—you’ve been expecting their visit, there’s room for them here. Buy a step stool to help them work beside you in the kitchen, reach the Oreos in your pantry, brush their teeth by themselves. Take their messes in stride, their fears as quite normal, and an occasional tantrum as a compliment—you’re family, you’re home. Hold them, hug them, give them a kiss. Tell them you love them, with eyes locked and voice sure. Be unexpected, spontaneous, serendipitous too—taking moon walks with flashlights, hearing bird songs before breakfast, sitting down on the curb with your knees on your chin, because the little boy beside you loves big garbage trucks and you’ve heard a distant roar that tells you it’s coming your way. These are the things that will set your heart’s rhythm and carve deeply your profile on the hearts of your grands. These are the things that, long after you’re gone, will make the sound of your name bring a far away gaze and a sweet settled smile to the face of the little who stood on a stool right beside you and made “the best pancakes I’ve ever, ever tasted, and I’m telling the truth.”

A Shoe Rainbow Giveaway for Good

October 10, 2017 By Kelle

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month. In recognition of that, this giveaway post is sponsored by our friends at Born Shoes to help raise money for Ruby’s Rainbow, an organization that provides scholarships to people with Down syndrome to achieve dreams of post secondary education.

I’ve been partnering with Born Shoes for over two years now, and one of my favorite things about working with them is that, from that very first e-mail, they were passionate about getting involved in our advocacy for Down syndrome. “How can we get involved?” they asked. “We have lots of shoes–can we do something with those?”

So we’ve been giving away shoes together for two years to encourage people to donate to Ruby’s Rainbow so that they can send more people like Nella to college.

Earlier this year, I had the great privilege of traveling with Ruby’s Rainbow to Minnesota where we spent three days with a family as they packed up their daughter Kirsta’s things and dropped her off at college. The night before her big day, as we all attempted to help calm Kirsta’s nerves, we found ourselves in her bedroom, perusing the piles of what she had chosen to take with her from the book collection she had whittled down to a small suitcase of favorites to the clothes she had elected as perfect college attire–lots of comfy t-shirts, jeans and a bomber jacket “to wear with anything.” My favorite, of course, was her shoe pile, a small mountain of shoes her sisters helped her select with everything from comfy flats to some Wowza! leopard print booties. I couldn’t help but smile, completely relating to the fact that for all the uncomfortable firsts in life–the exciting new adventures, the hard days, the big challenges–the thrill of heading to a pile of shoes and choosing the most fabulous ones to face those days somehow makes them better.

Want a pile of fabulous Born shoes to choose from to face those new adventures AND help send someone with Down syndrome to college to chase their own dreams of new adventures? Born Shoes is giving away an entire fall shoe wardrobe–five pairs of Born shoes/boots from their site–to one lucky winner who’s about to look more fabulous than us all. All you have to do to enter the giveaway is click on the giveaway link at the end of the post and make a donation to Ruby’s Rainbow.

I’m loving the versatility of the SOPRIS bootie–a hiker boot that naturally pairs well with jeans, flannel shirt and your favorite backpack but transfers nicely to a long skirt to play up that rugged fall vibe.

Also pairs well with a cute kid with big dreams.

It’s been an amazing thing to watch my friend Liz build her organization and witness Ruby’s Rainbow grow a little more each year. I’ve seen countless videos of recipients opening their scholarship letters and have wiped many a tear as they jump up and down while their families clap and hug and say, “You did it! You worked so hard for this.” I’ve visited these students in their dorms, sat in on classes with them and interviewed their parents about what these opportunities mean for their families and what new doors have opened up because of it. Ruby’s Rainbow is changing lives, and I couldn’t be happier to partner with a company that so beautifully recognizes that.

So, drop a little in Ruby’s Rainbow’s bucket. Shop a little on Born’s website. And take comfort in the fact that as we all take on new adventures together, there’s some fabulous shoes out there that will help our feet look and feel good while we’re walking new paths.

Kelle Hampton & Rubyâ€™s Rainbow

A Potter Party Family Night

October 9, 2017 By Kelle

I’ve been looking forward to Harry Potter Movie Night pretty much since I gave birth to a child ten years ago. I’ve read a lot of books in my life and can’t tell you where I was for most of them, but the Potter books? I think everyone remembers where they were for those–in my case, going to college, living with my grandparents, studying Wordsworth and Keats by day and J.K. Rowling by night. I drove two hours home on weekends to work in the hospital blood lab, a job that required me to man the phones and take tubes of blood sent from patient floors to their respective specialty rooms to be spun and analyzed. It was quiet on weekends, so Harry Potter came with me, and I vividly remember sitting hunched over the desk in my lab coat, turning page after page, stopping only to answer a phone or input a blood test when it arrived on the dumb waiter–sometimes unnoticed during a particularly harrowing event in the book.

Phlebotomist: “Ah, Kelle. You gonna get that? The dumb waiter alarm is going off.”

Me: “Would you shut up? Syrius Black just died! Have some respect! Jesus.”

It was amazing how quickly eight hour work days sped by when Harry Potter was with me. The elaborate imagination and detailed descriptions of that magical world transformed me, and I’ve waited over fifteen years to pass that on. And then came Lainey: “Dear God, please keep this baby healthy…and help her to love Harry Potter. Amen.”

Here’s the thing. We attempted to read the books together earlier this year, and even with the help of the Audible narrator’s British accent, Lainey was–oh, this is hard. She was….wait for it. She was like, “Meh.”

MIC DROP.

I repeat, I introduced my kid to Harry Potter, and I GOT APATHY.

Aw, hell naw. We’re doing this again. THIS TIME WITH FEELING.

We’re goin’ straight for the jugular. Jump to the movie. Add bells and whistles. Which brings me to our fall bucket list and that little unchecked box next to “Watch Harry Potter with Candles, Butterbeer and Bertie Bott’s Beans.” We took care of it this past weekend.

So here’s how we’re going to do this: I will bring this movie to life. I will make you feel the magic. I will lure you with Honeyduke’s candy and hook you with butterbeer.

Truth is, I love family nights and movies and end-of-the-year holidays, and this little party is less about forcing my kids to love Harry Potter and more about celebrating October in a fun, special way. And before I show you a peek at our little Potter party, let me also tell you that when you see stuff like this–fun parties for kids or holiday crafts and celebrations, for example–on my site or in my social media feeds, this isn’t about attempting to be a good mom. I don’t associate being a good mom with celebrations and details and parties. But I do associate being a good mom with doing things that make me happy and inviting my kids to witness my happiness and be part of it. This is more about me than my kids. Because I like creating things and celebrating parties and making space for the 10-year-old girl inside who never died. It makes me happy. And I think the best way to be a good mom is to do things that make you happy. For you, that might be Crossfit or home decorating or cooking or tending to your garden. For me, it’s planning little celebrations and making them come to life. I loved this little family night so much, and more than wanting my kids to remember any of the details I planned, I hope they recall someday, “Remember that Harry Potter party we did when we were little? Mom was so happy. She was doing what she loved.”

And it was simpler than it sounds. The family activity planned was simply to watch Harry Potter together as a family on a Saturday night. What I added? Four things:

1. Floating Candles. I hung twelve “floating candles” in the air with fish line. I didn’t get as elaborate as this D.I.Y., but I followed a similar method, tucking flameless flickering tea lights into cardstock paper that I rolled around the tea light and taped in place. I then taped two strands of fishing line on the candle and strung them to the ceiling. It took me 30 minutes to make and hang twelve of them.

2. We made a candy bar to model the Honeyduke’s shop in the book.

I poured melted Wilton chocolate melts in this frog mold for the chocolate frogs, and for the fizzing whizzbies, I poured chocolate melts into this bee mold but layered pop rocks in the middle. The fizzing whizzbies were definitely the favorite.

3. We made butterbeer.

I looked at several recipes, but a lot of them were just too rich (butterscotch PLUS brown sugar PLUS whipping cream PLUS condensed milk PLUS cream soda–whoa). Ours was pretty simple–I mixed vanilla ice cream with a tiny bit of milk and butterscotch topping in the blender. I poured cold cream soda in a frosted glass leaving room at the top for our butterscotch “foam” and then spooned the ice cream mixture over top. For the adults, we added some rum and butterscotch Shnapps. Totally delicious.

4. We dressed the part.

I dug up some witch hats from last year’s Halloween party, found Harry Potter glasses and drew Harry’s forehead scar with eye liner. Dash dug up a cape from the dress up basket.

And I love that just when I wonder, “Is Lainey growing out of this? Am I too extra for her?,” she comes out of her room with a wad of black pipe cleaners and hands them to my dad. “Poppa, can you turn these into a witch hat for Latte to wear?” because she believes, like I do, that my dad can make anything. Later, when Lainey’s friend arrived for a sleepover, she came to me and asked if I could make a Harry Potter scar on her too and if we had another witch hat. Be still my heart, I thought you’d never ask.

And that’s it. That’s all you need to make it special. Candy, candles, a good drink and a hat. The rest, as they say, was…magic.

We’ve rekindled a love for Harry Potter, and I couldn’t be happier about it. While Nella and Dash eventually fell asleep, Lainey was all in. And for at least a good hour, it was everyone…huddled together by candlelight, sipping butterbeer, entranced by the magic of Hogwarts…making one special memory.