In my Grandpa Era

With apologies to Ms. Taylor Swift, I'm thoroughly enjoying being nearly 10 months into my Grandpa Era. Here's a quick photo essay documenting a small part of the adventure so far...

This is my favorite shot of my grandson Cal and me. I think it was taken when he was just a couple of weeks old. Now he's almost a year, and of course he looks much different, but I go back and look at this picture a lot.

This was in the hospital right after Cal was born, as you can probably tell from the generic hospital baby blanket. He was relatively big by newborn standards, but he still seemed impossibly small to me. I couldn't get enough of him in those first few weeks. I still can't get enough of him.

When Cal comes to my house or I go to his, I'm often tasked with diaper changes and giving bottles. Of course I never say no. He will outgrow bottles at some point, so I try to savor each feeding. It's a nice time for us to be close. I talk to him while he stares back at me and eats. I think we both enjoy it.

This was us wearing our holiday sweaters on Christmas, the day Cal turned 4 months old. I don't know how often we're doing to dress alike as he gets older, but I do look forward to taking him out for Grandpa-Calvin days. Hockey games will be high on the list when he's ready, but even simple trips to the park are going to be so much fun.

When Cal's mom Chloe was little, she used to love carrying around a little plastic orange hammer. She would take it everywhere. So Terry got Cal one just like it. So far, he sees is mainly as something to teethe on, but to each his own.

From the time he could smile, one thing that has always made Cal happy is when you whistle at him. Or at least it works when I do it. This shot was taken on Easter, and I think I'm whistling to try and amuse him (otherwise I can't explain my face). My guess, though, is that someone off camera is responsible for Cal's big grin, because I'm not sure my whistling was ever that amusing.

Grammy and Grandpa with little Cal. One of the things I've enjoyed about being a new grandparent is sharing the experience with Terry. We talk about Cal all the time, and we marvel as he reaches new milestones and learns new skills. I knew we would love him, and I knew we would enjoy being grandparents. I just didn't know we would love it all so much. It's wonderful.

You live for the smile

At some point every day, our daughter Chloe and our grandson Cal will FaceTime Terry to say hi and talk. Sometimes it's multiple times a day.

If I happen to be home when these calls come in, I peek over Terry's shoulder and give them a big hello.

Actually, as much as I love Chloe, my big hello is almost always directed toward Cal. And no matter what mood he seems to be in, he will usually return my greeting with a big cheesy smile.

I don't have to tell you veteran grandparents my heart then melts. It makes my day.

When your grandchildren are still babies, that's what you're constantly going for: the smile. They can't yet talk, but the message that happy grin conveys is clear: "You're one of my favorite people!"

Recently I had the privilege of watching Cal all day on a Saturday while his parents took a day trip and Terry was out of town. We did all the usual stuff you do when caring for a 6 1/2-month-old, but a lot of our time was spent just having fun.

We did The Flying Calvin until Grandpa's arms gave out. We played with his toys. We made up "The Naked Baby Song" while changing his clothes (which, if I may say so, was a pretty good impromptu composition).

The whole time I was just looking for the smile. And I got it. Many times over.

Chloe, Michael and Cal ended up spending that night at our house because the power at their place was knocked out by a windstorm. I was sad they had to throw out all the food from their refrigerator, but I have to be honest...

I was even more sad the next day when their power kicked back on and they went home. I was kind of hoping for another day of Cal smiles. 

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.

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.

We're enjoying having a college kid in the family again

Jack on his first day of college

The recent birth of our grandson has somewhat overshadowed another significant family milestone, which is the fact that our youngest son, Jack, started college a couple of weeks ago.

Jack is a freshman data science major at Cleveland State University. He's a little older than the typical freshman at 19 1/2, the result of a two-year process of trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to do in life.

Lots of young people go through the same extended period of self-reflection that Jack did, and I'm surprised it's not even more common. Asking 17- and 18-year-olds to pinpoint exactly what career path they're going to follow is a tall order, especially in a world that changes as rapidly as ours.

Since graduating high school in 2023, Jack has had a brief fling with community college, considered a career in the trades, and worked full time for nearly a year cleaning cages in an animal research laboratory.

Eventually he came to Terry and me and said he thought it would be best to go to college and earn a bachelor's degree of some sort. He is interested in statistics and data analysis – a field that will surely be reshaped by the emergence of artificial intelligence – so data science it is.

Starting in 2012 when Elissa began her own four-year journey at Cleveland State, we had a kid or kids in college continuously for 11 years. For me as Dad, it was a blur of FAFSA forms, dorm move-ins, and essays to edit.

Now, after a two-year break, I'm excited to get back into that world.

Like me so many years ago, Jack is a college commuter. He lives at home and drives downtown five days a week to attend class. There are advantages to doing that (particularly financial ones), but it can also mean being somewhat disengaged from school activities outside of the classroom.

I made an effort to be involved in the band and the school newspaper when I was at John Carroll University, at least until the demands of a nearly full-time work schedule at The News-Herald made those extracurriculars impossible. Jack has talked about joining the CSU pep band, and I hope he does. It would be good for him.

You know, becoming a grandparent can make you feel old. But I'm finding that once again having a college kid in the family balances that out. It makes Terry and I realize we're still very much in our primes.

Good luck to Jack, and go Vikings!

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.

When your kid is expecting, your perspective changes in unexpected ways

This is one of those 4D ultrasound images. Taken last month, it shows my grandson at around 30 weeks gestation. Ain't he handsome?

For years, my kids were vocal about their desire to add a pool and a trampoline to our backyard.

My answer was a consistent "no, not happening." Setting aside the financial outlay, I was simply too lazy to mow around more obstacles, and I wasn't interested in taking over the ongoing maintenance a pool requires.

As the kids moved out, the pool and trampoline discussion subsided.

Until one day earlier this summer when Terry and I were sitting on the deck and she matter-of-factly raised the question of where in our backyard we would put an above-ground pool. I reflexively expressed my reservations, at which point Terry played what has become the ultimate trump card.

"Our grandson will love coming to our house even more if he has a pool to play in," she said.

I stopped cold. Chloe hadn't even birthed this little boy, our first grandchild, and already he was coloring the way I saw the world.

And for the first time ever, I was open to the idea of becoming a pool owner.

I love my five kids. They're all great. But why was I suddenly OK with a pool for a baby I haven't even met after years of not being OK with it when my own children would ask?

Practical reasons, for one thing. I no longer cut our grass, so mowing around a pool becomes a problem (admittedly a very slight one) only for Nick, our lawn guy. Plus, honestly, we're simply in a better financial situation now than we ever were when the kids were little.

There's also the ever-present and powerful desire to spoil our grandson and make Grandma and Grandpa's house the fun place to be.

The point is, I can't believe how attractive the idea of a pool suddenly sounds after years of resisting it.

As far as a trampoline goes, that request will have to come from the grandbaby himself. If he wants one, we'll look into it.

Why do I get the feeling that all of his adult aunts and uncles on our side of the family will be whispering in his ear to ask for that trampoline in a few years?

When people start giving you stuff like this, grandparenthood suddenly gets real

Last month I was in the grocery store and ran into Jenny, a high school classmate and track teammate of mine. We were chatting and updating each other on our lives (as one does while standing in the produce section) when I mentioned that Chloe was due with our first grandchild in mid-September.

Jenny, a grandmother herself, lit up.

"Oh," she said, "it's amazing. You have no idea how much you can love a grandchild until they're actually here. You hear about it and agree that of course you'll love that little one, but you don't really understand until you hold them."

I've heard lots of people say things like that, and it makes me even more excited than I already am to become a grandpa.

That word "grandpa", by the way, sounds much older to me than "grandfather" goes. Your grandpa has white hair and walks with a cane. Your grandfather has salt-and-pepper hair and plenty of energy to play with you.

It's all semantics, of course, and as I've said, I really don't care what this little boy calls me. I just can't wait to meet him.

This year for Father's Day, Chloe gave me a bag of Starbucks coffee (she knows me well) and the mug pictured above. When your Father's Day presents become more like Grandfather's Day presents, you know you're entering a new phase in your life.

Well, the grandparent phase, of course, but also the phase when I will only drink out of coffee mugs 10 ounces or larger. I have no time for those useless little 8-ounce teacups...

Here's what I'm doing to prepare to become a grandfather

Nothing. I'm doing nothing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very excited my daughter Chloe is due to give birth to our first grandchild in 4 1/2 months.

It's just that, in the grand scheme of things (haha, "grand"), Grandpa is the most fun and easiest job ever. My assignment, once this little one is born, will be to love him, play with him, and teach him stuff.

I can absolutely do that. All of it. Bring it on.

There's no manual to read in advance. I don't have to strip wallpaper and paint nursery walls like Terry and I did back in the 90s when we started having kids. And speaking of Terry, she is already in the process of preparing our house for a baby. My input there is minimal.

The only thing I have to do as Grandpa is to avoid doing the one thing my own dad, an otherwise outstanding grandfather, did when Elissa was a toddler.

Elissa was at my parents' house eating lunch, I think. Terry was there, too, and specifically said Elissa couldn't have any potato chips until she ate some of her healthier food.

But my dad – always one to spoil his grandchildren – gave Elissa those chips anyway. Just handed her the can of Pringles, right there in front of her mother.

Terry fumes about it to this day.

Note to self: If Chloe says the child cannot have or do something, no matter how much I want to spoil him, honor his mother's wishes.

Unless I want her holding a grudge against me 30 years later.

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 time comes for grandchildren, fine. Right now? I'm good.

We have five children and zero grandchildren, and I'm absolutely OK with these numbers.

My wife, on the other hand, while not quite chomping at the bit for one of our kids to have offspring of their own, is probably a little more anxious than me for it to happen.

To clarify, I'm sure that if and when we get grandkids, it's going to be great. All of the grandparents I talk to tell me how wonderful it is.

And I believe them.

For the moment, though, I don't need to be anyone's Grandpa.

Or "Grampy," or "Gramps," or "Grandad," or "Grandpap," or even "Granddude," which is apparently gaining in popularity.

I have been "Dad" for many years, and it's still my favorite title. I'm going to stick with it as long as I can (which is presumably the rest of my life).

It has nothing to do with getting or feeling old. I'm nearly 55, which is still middle-aged but creeping inexorably toward senior citizenhood. I'm not fooling anyone anyway.

I just don't feel the same sort of life milestone momentum I used to feel in my 20s and 30s when I got married, bought a house, had kids, progressed in my career, etc.

These days, I'm somewhat more of a go-with-the-flow, take-it-as-it-comes-and-don't-rush-it kind of guy. Or at least much more than I used to be.

It really does feel like the best approach to life, and it only took me a half-century to learn it.

When grandchildren do enter our lives, we will fawn over them and spoil them in the finest Grandma/Grandpa tradition. We will give them things Mom and Dad don't. We will take them on trips and send them presents for no reason and attend every single one of their little league games and school concerts.

I have no doubt Terry and I will be A-1, top-of-the-line grandparents.

But not now. Not quite yet. There's simply no hurry.

For the moment, my focus is going to the gym five days a week so that, when those grandbabies do arrive, I will have the energy to play with them, wrestle with them, take them places, and generally keep up with them.

When it's my time, believe me, I will not be Rocking Chair Grandpa. I'll be Superhero Grandpa.

Or Granddude. I haven't decided on my title yet.

I cannot imagine having another baby in the house

There are, on record, men who have become fathers at insanely advanced ages.

A guy from India named Ramjit Raghav was reportedly 96 years old when his second son was born in 2012 (he died earlier this year at the age of 104).

In the Bible, it says that "after Noah was 500 years old, he became the father of Shem, Ham and Japheth."

500 years old.

I'm 51. And trust me when I say I'm done.

Not done being a father, you understand. That job never goes away. I just mean I'm not looking to be the father of a newborn ever again. I have been blessed to have that experience five times over, and I will be forever grateful. It is magical and amazing.

It is also a young man's game. God made it that way, and it's fine by me.

You have to have a lot of energy to parent a baby that's fresh out of the package. They require a whole lot of attention. And even the best sleepers among them still tend to be pretty needy around the clock.

There's also this: You expend a great deal of spiritual, emotional and mental energy on those little ones. You worry about them, you teach them things, you try to keep them safe. It's never-ending, and it's the greatest job in the world.

Still, it's a job probably best performed in your 20s and 30s. You have a little more energy then.

So am I ready for grandchildren, then? Eh, I suppose, but I'm in no hurry. I'm not opposed to the idea, and I do have a daughter who is married and would be in immediate contention for world's best mother. But let's take that as it comes.

Seriously, though, 500 years old? Even 96 years old? More power to you, brothers. This dad is content with his teenager and four 20-somethings.