Everything can change (for the better) with a single phone call

It was a Thursday in late April. I was working from home and had come downstairs to spend a few minutes with my daughter Chloe and grandson Cal. They were hanging at our house that day while son-in-law / husband / dad Michael was out of town for work.

I was holding Cal and talking to Chloe when her phone rang. She looked at the screen and said, in a tone of excitement, "That's a 216 number!"

It took me a second to realize what she meant.

Chloe had been accepted into The Ohio State University College of Medicine a few months earlier. She had visited the school a couple of times, and she and Michael were already making plans to sell their house and move to Columbus.

The only thing that could keep them in Northeast Ohio was if Chloe were to gain admission to the Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine.

Or should I say "the highly selective Cleveland Clinic Lerner College of Medicine," as that's sometimes how you see it referred to.

Chloe had been waitlisted at Lerner, which essentially means, "At the moment, we're not accepting you. But we're not rejecting you, either."

She had also been accepted to one other med school and waitlisted at yet another, but ultimately, this was a two-horse race. It was either going to be Ohio State or Lerner. She had told the Lerner folks that, if she were to be admitted there, she would absolutely attend, no questions asked.

The problem is that only 32 students are admitted to the Lerner College of Medicine each year. That's 32 out of about 2,000 applicants.

There is no doubt Lerner is an outstanding medical school. Elite, even. But for many, one of the main draws is the fact that it's free.

Completely free. A five-year medical degree without charge.

Even with its relatively affordable tuition, Ohio State can't compete with free.

So before diving in and making full preparations for a move south, Chloe wanted to hear one way or another from Lerner. She needed closure, which is understandable.

As a frequent participant in online medical school applicant discussion forums, she knew exactly when the Lerner folks were likely to make their "yes" or "no" calls to wait-listers.

Which is why the appearance of an unknown 216 (Cleveland) number on her phone in late April gave her a jolt of adrenaline.

She answered the call with a cautious "Hello?"

You know how, if a room is relatively quiet, you can hear someone on the other end of a cell conversation? I made out just enough to decipher that the caller was Dr. Christine Warren from the Lerner College of Medicine.

I heard Dr. Warren say she was calling with good news that they were formally going to offer Chloe admission. I saw Chloe's eyes go wide and a smile start to play across her face.

I began silently jumping up and down in celebration while still holding Cal, which made him a little nervous. He obviously didn't know what was going on.

When Chloe got off her call, I ran over and hugged her, and we both started jumping up and down.

Cal cried a little, scared by all the commotion. I cried, too. Only my tears came from the realization that all of our lives had changed in an instant.

Not only did that phone call mean Chloe, Michael and Cal would continue living relatively close to us, it also meant that Chloe was going to save herself a few hundred thousand dollars in med school tuition.

Terry was out of town at the time, and I enjoyed listening in when Chloe called her mother and told her the good news.

Terry, bless her heart, always had faith that Chloe would get into Lerner. Both of us wanted whatever was best for Chloe and family, but we also wanted them to remain local so that we could continue seeing our little grandson as often as possible.

I had already resigned myself to the idea that Chloe was going to Ohio State. We would undoubtedly make the drive of 2+ hours to Columbus regularly, I figured, which was certainly better than nothing.

But Terry never wavered. She said Chloe was going to get in, and she did.

Which in retrospect makes sense, I suppose. I mean, she is already DOCTOR Chloe Edmonds, having earned her PhD in neuroscience two years ago. I don't know how many Lerner applicants can say they hold PhD's.

Then there was the fact that Chloe is an experienced researcher who has been published in multiple medical journals. The Lerner College trains physician-researchers, which is right up Chloe's professional alley.

And ultimately, there's the fact that she's Chloe. Chloe does big things. She decides she's going to do them, and she does them.

And now Dr. Edmonds is on her way to becoming Dr. Dr. Edmonds. Well, actually, if all goes well, she'll be Chloe Edmonds, MD, PhD.

Amazing.

She starts the program July 6, with the traditional white coat ceremony scheduled for the following Sunday.

You can bet we'll all be there to see her get that well-deserved white coat.

And you can bet Cal is going to continue getting all the Grammy and Grandpa time he can handle.

All because of one two-minute phone call.

A Q&A interview with my 7-month-old grandson Cal

NOTE: It's not often we here at 5 Kids, 1 Wife, 1 Grandchild score anything you might call an "exclusive," but we've definitely hit a home run today. We're proud to present the first published interview with Calvin Edmonds, world-renowned formula expert, diaper connoisseur, and – in what I do not consider to be any sort of journalistic conflict – our grandchild. Calvin recently sat down with us to share his views on life as an infant and how easy it is to manipulate your parents and grandparents.

5 Kids, 1 Wife, 1 Grandchild (5K1W1G): Calvin, this is so exciting! Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule of rolling, crying, pooping and attending the occasional library story time to talk with us.

Calvin: It's all good, Grandpa, my pleasure.

5K1W1G: So...you've been around for 7 months now. How is it going for you? Has life been everything you expected?

Calvin: Honestly, I didn't have any expectations at all. One minute I'm in a warm, dark, cramped place, the next I'm in a hospital NICU hooked up to all sorts of machines. I had no idea there was anything outside the womb. Let's just say I'm still adjusting.

5K1W1G: Your parents, Chloe and Michael. They meet your every need and respond to your every whim. You have to be happy with their performance so far.

Calvin: Oh absolutely, they're amazing. I didn't realize I would be given my own personal servants, but now I can't imagine life without them.

5K1W1G: Any constructive feedback for them?

Calvin: I don't want to sound ungrateful, since those two are rookies at this just like I am. But I will say that sometimes when I cry, they take upwards of 15 seconds to figure out what I want and give it to me. Seven months into this gig, I don't think we need those sorts of delays.

5K1W1G: What about your Grammy Terry and me? How are we doing?

Calvin: All due respect? You guys are suckers. I thought I could make Mom and Dad do whatever I wanted, but you guys...it's like mind control. You're hilariously easy. Whatever I want, whenever I want it, you give it to me.

5K1W1G: We view it as our mission in life. Any areas of improvement for us?

Calvin: I enjoy coming to see you, but you can't drive down to my house more often? Akron too far for you to spend time with your one and only grandchild?

5K1W1G: Well, I mean, Grammy comes to your place quite often. It's just that I have to work five days a week to keep her in the lifestyle to which she has become accustomed.

Calvin: Sounds like an excuse. Let's work on that.

5K1W1G: We will, I promise. I see your mom already has you in swimming lessons and music classes. How engaged are you with these activities?

Calvin: More than you think, though my job is usually just to look around and occasionally smile to let her know I'm enjoying myself.

5K1W1G: Speaking of your mom, she plans to become a doctor. How do you feel about that?

Calvin: My experience with doctors is that they talk to you like they're your best friend then turn around and give you shots. I don't trust 'em. At some point during med school, I predict Mom is going to see through this charade and rethink her life choices.

5K1W1G: And your dad, Michael. What does he do for work?

Calvin: It has something to do with trucks. And buildings, I think. I'm not entirely sure. I mean, I'm 7 months old.

5K1W1G: With a surprisingly advanced vocabulary. Hey, I can't help but notice you have a couple of teeth now. Are you putting those to use?

Calvin: If by "putting those to use" you mean biting my mom from time to time, then yes. Food-wise, they've been giving me cereal and other mushy stuff, but nothing that really requires you to have a good set of incisors, you know? I assume the steak and hard candy will come later.

5K1W1G: What about hobbies? Any personal interests you've picked up?

Calvin: My dad and I are gamers. Well, I mean, he does the actual "gaming," but I'm usually strapped to him in the carrier while he does it. I've seen enough to know that if you put a PlayStation controller in my hands, I could dominate at FIFA.

5K1W1G: At this point in the interview, we should probably address the elephant in the room – your looks. You're a strikingly handsome fellow. Gerber Baby cute. How has that affected you?

Calvin: <sighs> Look, I appreciate the compliments, but do you know how hard it is to look this good? People treat you differently. They stare at you. They don't care about your thoughts or ideas. Like the other day, I had just finished reading "The Communist Manifesto" for the third time, and I wanted to share with Mom my criticisms of the book and where Marx went wrong. But she wasn't having any of it. Over and over, all she did was get in my face and ask, "Who's a cute boy? WHO'S A CUTE BOY?!?" Me, the answer is me. I know that, she knows that. Can we move on? I'm telling you, it's exhausting being one of the Beautiful People. You uglies have it so much easier...

5K1W1G: Wait, what?

Calvin: Nothing.

5K1W1G: Well, I think it's just about nap time for you, so one last question. If you could be a tree, what kind of tree would you be?

Calvin: Oh, Grandpa, that's so cliche. You're better than that. Why don't you just launch into your "I was on two game shows" story for the thousandth time?

5K1W1G: That hurts.

Calvin: Sorry. I love you, Grandpa.

5K1W1G: I love you, too, buddy.

OK, let's get back to Calvin...

When my grandson Calvin was born last August, I changed the name of this blog to "5 Kids, 1 Wife, 1 Grandchild." As you might expect, the young man has gotten more than his share of exposure here over the ensuing half a year, and rightly so.

But I never wanted the blog to become "all Cal all the time," so you will note that it has been six weeks since I last posted about him.

Time for the little guy to return.

This Wednesday, Cal turns 6 months old. He rolls over like a champ, has a couple of teeth that have broken through, and delights Terry and me by Facetiming us on days when neither of us is able to see him in person.

He also sometimes wakes up a little too early for his mom Chloe's liking, and he is a master grump when tired or simply not getting his way.

Right now, Cal, his mom, and his dad Michael live about 45 minutes away from us in Akron. Where they'll be living this time next year is entirely dependent on where Chloe attends medical school.

She has already been accepted to one institution that would require her to move 2+ hours south of us. That's not ideal, but it's also not a dealbreaker. We could manage it and still see Cal and his parents regularly.

Meanwhile, Chloe is waiting to hear final decisions from two other med schools nearer to home. Acceptance to either could mean they would stay in Akron or move even closer to us.

Let the record show we would certainly not object to that.

I want what's best for Chloe and her family, honestly, but I also want the little guy with whom Terry and I are obsessed to be more accessible.

Either way, fingers crossed.

You can understand our dilemma.

You're my little potato

Me reading a book to Cal at his house recently. He seemed to appreciate the effort, but his expression told me, "I think Mom and Dad do this better than you, Grandpa."

My four-month-old grandson Cal is comforted by the funniest things.

Like running water. I find if he's tired and cranky but not yet ready to go down for a nap, I can take him the bathroom and turn on the faucet.

That sound calms him down, as does looking at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Taken together, the water and seeing his own face always stop his tears, if not make him downright happy.

There are also certain songs that soothe him. Actually, I'm not sure whether it's the songs themselves or the fact that his mom, my daughter Chloe, is singing them.

Chloe has always had a nice voice, and Calvin responds much better when she sings "The Eensy Weensy Calvin" (a slight adaptation of "The Eensy Weensy Spider") to him than when I do.

There is, however, one song that makes him happy no matter who sings it. And the recorded version seems to work best of all.

That tune is "My Little Potato" by the group Metamora. (The link takes you to YouTube. If you're interested in just the lyrics, here they are.)

It's a playful, silly little song, but also a heartfelt tribute to newborns everywhere and the people who love them.

You’re my little potato, they dug you up, you come from underground. The world is big, so big, it’s very big. To you it’s new, it’s new to you. 

And later...

You’re my sweet potato, they dug you up, you come from underground. You smile a smile, a little smile. The world is small, so small, it’s very small. 

Chloe discovered it from a friend who is also a relatively new mom, and over the last few months, it has been in heavy rotation in her car and on my Apple Music playlists.

It is, in effect, my Cal anthem. I've played it for him on my phone and have softly sung it to him while trying to get him to sleep.

It reminds me of everything I felt as a new dad back in The Day and everything I'm feeling and learning as a new grandpa.

He won't remember it as he gets older and baby songs give way to toddler songs and little kid songs and eventually popular songs of the type he will love and his grandfather will patiently endure.

No matter, though. As long as he knows he'll always be Grandpa's little potato, that's good enough.

A boy named Cal

 

One very cheap way to attract "likes," comments and all the other forms of social media validation on which bloggers thrive is to post photos like this one of my grandson Cal.

I am not above doing this.

Cal is 2 months old and I can't get enough of him. We make the drive down to his house in Akron whenever we have the chance, and we love when he's able to spend time here at Grammy and Grandpa's house.

Before Cal was born, I had lots of veteran grandparents tell me things like, "Just you wait. You're going to love that little guy in a way you can't even imagine. He's going to change your world."

And I would say to myself, "OK, yes, of course I'm going to love him."

But I didn't really understand how and how much I would love him. It's a dazzling new experience.

I've not been doing this grandparent thing very long, but from what I can tell so far, the love you have for a grandchild is very much like the love you have for your kids, but...somehow different. Not better or worse, just different. It's deep and profound in ways I couldn't have expected.

Some of that probably has to do with emotional family connections you make with your own mom and dad, and by extension your mother-in-law and father-in-law. I wish so much that Cal could have met any of his great-grandparents on our side, but it wasn't in the cards.

So I guess Terry and I have to love him even more to make up for their absence. Challenge accepted.

The running joke when it comes to grandparenthood is that you get all the benefits of being a parent and can simply hand them back at the end of the day.

Which I guess is true, but the reality is we never want to hand him back. We don't mind changing diapers, feeding him, or walking with him if he's fussy.

None of that feels like an imposition or a burden. It feels more like a privilege.

I know what Chloe and Michael, Cal's mom and dad, are going through right now. Having a baby takes a lot of time and energy, especially when you're juggling it with full-time work (in Michael's case) or navigating the application and interview process for medical school (in Chloe's case).

People will tell you that, despite the chaos, you're going to miss these days. And much like my semi-dismissal of friends and relatives who tried to describe to me the experience of being a grandparent, it's difficult to really grasp and appreciate what they're talking about in the moment.

But over time you learn. Just as I'm learning what an incredible blessing it is to be this little boy's grandpa. I can't even tell you how lucky we are.

The all-important issue of what you as a grandparent are going to be called

Cal and me

The most common question I received before and after my grandson Calvin was born three weeks ago was what exactly the little guy would call me.

My answer was always the same: "I don't know, and I mostly don't care. He can call me whatever he wants."

Within reason, of course.

The early favorite seems to be the straightforward "Grandpa." To our kids, my dad was "Grandpa Tennant" and Terry's dad was "Grandpa Ross," so the title is already ingrained into our family culture.

But nothing is set in stone, especially since the little guy is all of 21 days old and hasn't quite yet mastered the art of speech.

The people who will have the greatest influence on how Cal refers to his grandparents are his mom and dad, Chloe and Michael. Whatever they call us is very likely what he will call us.

Terry has lobbied to be known as "Grammy." Which is great, but again, unless Cal hears it a lot at home, it's not going to stick.

In any case, the list of potential grandparent names is certainly varied. For men, beyond Grandpa, I've also heard Gramps, Grampy, Grandad, Grandaddy, Grandpap, Papa, Papaw, Poppy, Opa, and the hilariously 21st-century "Granddude."

For women, there's Grandma, Grammy, Grams, Nana, Ga-Ga, Memaw, Mimi, Nanny, Nonna, and another hysterically modern and perhaps tongue-in-cheek selection: "Insta-gram."

Often we take on whatever name our grandchild calls us when he or she is a baby and just learning to talk. So far, in Calvin's case, the only sound he has made when looking at me involves a raspberry and copious amounts of spit.

Somehow, though, "Grandpa Brzzzzzttttfoooo" doesn't have much of a ring to it.

Introducing Calvin: The Official Grandchild™ of "5 Kids, 1 Wife"

 

The handsome young gentleman pictured above is Calvin, my grandson. He is two days old and the first grandchild with which Terry and I have been blessed.

We are, naturally, smitten.

Little Cal made his mother Chloe (our daughter) work hard through her first labor and delivery. She went into the hospital at 8am Sunday to be induced, the result of high blood pressure readings that prompted her care team to take Calvin from the relative warmth and comfort of the womb three weeks before his official due date.

It took nearly 23 hours for Cal to make his entrance, ultimately via an unplanned C-section. Despite the best contraction-inducing drugs and techniques modern medicine could offer – along with 3 1/2 hours of exhausting, heroic, middle-of-the-night pushing on Chloe's part – the little guy simply wouldn't come out.

This was largely because of his big head, an anatomical feature I will freely admit he inherited from his maternal grandfather.

So C-section it was. He came into the world at 6:43am on Monday, measuring 21 inches in length and weighing 8 pounds, 7 ounces.

Let me say two things about his weight:

• Terry, Melanie, Jack and I were sitting around the fire pit in our backyard Sunday night taking guesses as to what Cal's birth weight would be. One person was spot on with his guess. I will not tell you who that was, except to say it was me.
  
  
• If Chloe's pregnancy had gone the full 40 weeks, using the very general rule of thumb that babies gain a half pound a week in the final days of pregnancy, he would have been pushing 10 pounds just like his uncles Jared (9 pounds, 15 ounces) and Jack (9 pounds, 13 ounces) did.

Calvin has needed a little help breathing, which is why he has spent the first few days of his life in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). This is common in babies born even as late as 37 weeks – especially boys, for whatever reason – so there was no cause for alarm.

As for Chloe, in addition to the normal fatigue of labor, she also developed an infection that resulted in a fever, AND she hemorrhaged a bit after the C-section.

Give that woman a medal. Give every women who has a baby a medal, as far as I'm concerned.

And give her husband Michael a medal for keeping her going and supporting her through the whole ordeal.

When Terry and I got to the hospital about eight hours after Cal was born, I saw this wooden disc resting on Chloe's bedside tray:

Until that moment, while we knew Chloe was having a boy, we didn't know his name. That was the one thing Chloe and Michael had kept secret from the rest of the world, which I thought was perfectly fine. It was only fitting that Mom and Dad had at least one surprise to reveal.

It took me a minute to register exactly what the information on the little wooden circle meant. Then I realized not only that our first grandchild's name would be Calvin, but also that his middle name would be Scott.

It made for an emotional moment. It was all I could do to keep from breaking down and crying right then and there. What an honor it is for your grandbaby to share your name. It's something for which I'll always be grateful to Chloe and Michael.

I have a feeling I'll be grateful for a whole lot of things as Baby Calvin grows up.

We're going to have a wedding in the family

 

Recently my son Jared proposed to his longtime girlfriend Lyndsey, and she said yes.

None of this was a surprise to us. It was eventually going to happen and was just a matter of when.

Lyndsey and Jared have been together for nearly eight years. They went to the same high school but didn't become a couple until the summer after graduation. As I often say, she is as much a member of our family as any of our kids, as Elissa's boyfriend Mark, or as Chloe's husband Michael.

Now it becomes legal.

Whenever this wedding occurs, it will be the first involving one of our kids. Chloe and Michael have been hitched for 5 1/2 years, but they never had an actual wedding (though not for lack of trying).

They were married by a judge back in October 2019, in part because Chloe was beginning her academic research career and wanted to change her name before she began publishing. This was to maintain consistency and avoid any confusion further down the line.

Their plan was to have a formal wedding in June 2020, but you might remember a little pandemic that popped up a few months prior to that, causing them to push the wedding to October 2020.

That little pandemic refused to cooperate, though, and eventually their wedding was cancelled altogether.

So Jared and Lyndsey's big day will be Terry's and my first time as parents of the groom/bride.

As I write this, we don't yet have a date or a location for that wedding. But whenever it is, it's going to be quite the shindig, I'm sure. These kids have a large army of family and friends who love them and want to be there when they tie the knot.

I can't wait. It's not often I get to show off my Hokey Pokey AND Chicken Dance skills in the same night.

5 Kids, 1 Wife..and 1 Grandchild

To avoid "burying the lede," as they say in the journalism trade, let's begin with the big news in our family these days: My daughter Chloe and her husband Michael are expecting their first baby and our first grandchild in mid-September.

Which means Terry is going to be a grandma, something at which she will be exceedingly good.

It also means I'm going to be a grandpa, a prospect that's certainly welcomed, but one to which I had given little thought to this point.

Chloe gave us the news several weeks ago, but until now we've had to keep quiet about it. It happened on a Thursday evening in early January when she and I were scheduled to attend a Cleveland Orchestra performance together. She came to our house an hour or so early to have dinner with us before the concert.

When she walked into the house, Terry jokingly said to her, "Do you have a present for me?" Chloe replied that, yes, actually she did.

The conversation turned in a different direction for a minute before the idea of Chloe's present came up again, and she told Terry, "It's actually for you and Dad both."

That was the moment I knew what was going on. Amazingly, though, Terry didn't. She almost always picks up on the sorts of cues I don't, but in this case, she didn't see what I was seeing.

Chloe then handed her a plastic test stick with a little digital screen that displayed one word.

"Pregnant."

The expected cheers and hugs followed, after which Chloe told us it was still very early and that only a couple of other people knew at that point. So we had to keep it under wraps until now, which we did.

Mom-to-be Chloe and grandpa-to-be (yikes) me

With Chloe having posted the news on Facebook a few days ago, and Terry having informed her extensive personal network, I guess the knowledge is as public as it's going to get.

Last fall I wrote a post here in which I said that while I was looking forward to having grandkids someday, I wasn't in any particular hurry. And that was true.

But now that the reality is here and Chloe seems to be progressing with no issues. I'm all in.

She isn't due until September 14, so we obviously have a way to go, but already I'm wondering what this little one will call Terry and me.

For my part, I have no real preference. "Grandpa" is fine, as is "Grampy.” As is just about anything, really.

We know many people our age who have multiple grandchildren, but we're only just now for the first time confronting the reality of what it means to be grandparents. It's exciting, humbling and a little scary, all at the same time.

Kind of like it was back in 1993 when we found out Terry was pregnant with Elissa.

So...here comes another life milestone, ready or not. Whatever lies ahead, I can't wait.

When the kids (and grandkids) live far away

Us visiting grandchildren in 20 years

My daughter Chloe and her husband Michael recently bought their first house, which is in Akron. Given the crazy seller's market nowadays, they had to bid on several homes before finally having an offer accepted on one.

Throughout this process, Terry kept subtly (or maybe not so subtly) urging them to look at houses farther north, which would have put them closer to us.

In the end, they settled on Akron, which isn't exactly next door, but is also still less than an hour away.

Given that Elissa lives just one city to the east of us, we are very fortunate to have our older kids so close. I know many people who only see their offspring and grandchildren once a year on out-of-state trips.

I've always told Terry that you can't count on five kids settling in the immediate area where you live. It happens, but not often.

Jared's career, in particular, has the potential to take him to far-flung places. When you're in the sports information business, you go where the jobs are. And if you want to be a college sports information director, as Jared has thought about, you go to whichever university is willing to give you a shot.

That's the way it works. Not everyone is going to want (or have the opportunity) to stay in good old Ohio.

Knowing us, though, if and when one or more of the kids move to another part of the country, we will become frequent fliers and end up seeing them relatively often.

To my children, then, I say this: If you're definitely going to go somewhere else, think about Montana. I've always wanted to see Montana.