Grandma vs Zombie Sex

I've been a grandma for a while now and like to think that I'm fairly decent at it. However, lately, I'm beginning to wonder. I'm beginning to wonder because things keep cropping up that I find myself at a loss to explain. I feel like, and grandmas everywhere will relate to this...a mom.

Yes, that's right. I feel like a mom again in that insane "What the hell do I do/say now?" kind of way. I had this illusion that grandparents were somehow exempt from that, as we can just say, "Go ask your mom or dad" when the hard questions crop up. And this worked for me because even when mom and dad weren't around I've always been able to offset every question I've ever gotten from a grandkid with some kind of explanation, even if I had to fake my way through it.

Grandkid: Grandma, why is the sky blue?
Me: When the angels weep their tears are trapped in our atmosphere. Their tears are blue.

Grandkid: Grandma, what is peanut butter made from?
Me: Peanuts and butter.

Grandkid: Grandma, why does Santa Clause wear a red suit?
Me: Because he looks really good in red.

Grandkid: Grandma, why do horses run so fast?
ME: Because someone is chasing them.

You can see how I thought I had a handle on the "hard questions." I thought I was a natural, born to be a super grandma. However, my grandson, Ian, threw me a curve the other day.

Ian: Grandma, how do zombies have sex?
Me: Umm....umm....umm....

I've had some interesting sexual experiences, but never one that I can recall with a zombie, at least while I was sober, so this kind of caught me off guard. I had no prior experience to draw on, unless you consider dating that one really boring guy in college. I didn't know what to say. I mean, what the hell do you say to a question like that?

I took a deep breath and another and...another. I've written some crazy sex scenes with the undead, but never with a zombie included, so I relied on my experience with The Walking Dead and World War Z to get me through.

Ian: Grandma, how do zombies have sex?
Me: Umm....umm....umm....well, like anyone who really likes to eat humans and is hungry all the time has sex. Why do you want to know?
Ian: Because there are so many of them in the movies and they don't take very long to be made and it took a long time for Remi to come out of Mommy's belly and if it took that long for zombies there couldn't be that many, could there? So I thought they had fast sex or something.
Me: (sniffling because Remi is Ian's baby sister and he couldn't wait for her to be born) Well, honey, zombies are made a different way. From a virus, I think. By the way, do you know what sex is?
Ian: Sure. It's where mommy and daddy decide to make babies and close the bedroom door a lot.
Me: (somewhat relieved) Yep. That's it.

So you can see that I made it out of that one in the clear, but what about the next one? What happens when he asks me harder questions, like why Donald Trump is actually in the running for president? Or if vampires really sparkle in the sunlight?

I fear I'm losing my touch, my grandma touch. What happens when Ian asks a question I don't have a ready answer to?  Hopefully, I'll have this grandma thing figured out by then, but I don't know. Any suggestions? Please do share.

Cameo's Guide to Gift Buying-NOT

I wish that I could say I love the holidays, but that would only be semi-truthful. I definitely love the idea of the holidays—the decorations, family get-togethers, the snowy evenings filled with hot cocoa and romps in the snow, etc.—as long as someone else is doing the decorating, the preparation, and the romping. One thing I do love to do is cook treats, like cookies and other nifty stuff, but I’ve been put on a short leash on that one because of buzzkills who watch their weight and think one little cookie…or maybe two or three…a day…will ruin their diet plan. Pshaw!

I also like to buy gifts for family, friends, and those in need. I discovered something this year, though, that is quite unsettling: I’m incredibly bad at buying gifts for our grandkids. Like any good grandma, however, I’m choosing not to take the blame for this. Instead, I blame my son. It’s all his fault, and here’s why:

1.      He is terrible about giving me ideas for what our grandkids like. Living far away from them means we don’t get to see them as often as we want, and even though we keep up on the major life changes—like from Fischer Price to full throttle Mattel—the minor adjustments in their tastes in toys and such, for example when they move from Mickey Mouse to Miley Cyrus, often slip past us with nary a whimper. And when we directly ask our son what to get so we won’t look like out-of-it slacker grandparents or thoughtless scrooges, he just says things like, “Oh, you know. Boy stuff.” Which leads me to my next reason for blaming our son…

2.      He had boys. They are dear and sweet and wonderful and I wouldn’t trade them for the world or even a Klondike Bar, but because of my son’s apparent inability to pass along one lousy X chromosome once in a while, they are of the gender for whom my shopping intuition does not apply, and due to my husband's current workload, I'm the one doing the shopping. My little dears are like Kryptonite to my grandma shopping superpowers. Even if I do find that one item that my son managed to verbalize to me, I can’t find it in the right age range or color or it won’t be the right character. I can search for hours in the superhero section until I’m dazed and drooling and never find one damn G. I. Joe. However, I can turn around and face the other aisle—the GIRL aisle—and I become the Martha Stewart of girl toys. I know just what fashion doll to get for every young cousin or the best baby doll for every friend’s kid. I can tell you which dollhouse to buy for a 40-year-old empty-nester. I can point you to the right makeup kit for your thirteen year old or the least expensive but most appealing kiddie kitchenette for that budding Betty Crocker. But stick me in the aisle with model airplanes and super blaster water guns, and I’m at a loss.

3.      You might wonder how I could have raised a boy and yet still can’t buy toys for boys. Well, that’s my son’s fault, too. He was an unusual lad, one that skipped from splashing in mud puddles to building bridges over them or little sailboats to sail across them before the diaper came off. Yep, he’s an engineer, and when he was very young, my husband and I divided up the toy shopping thusly: He shopped for the boys and I shopped for the girls. It was simple and fast and I always figured that I’d have time to eventually buy something for my little da Vinci before he moved from Marvel comics to the marvels of constructing the coolest treehouse in Ithaca. I didn’t. When most of our neighbors’ kids were still struggling with trying to figure out where their poop came from, my little angel was disassembling his potty chair to see where the poop went after it plopped out. An amazing boy, but such a disappointment in terms of helping me train for grandkid gift buying.

So here I am, a week before Christmas, trying to find the right thing so on Christmas morning my grandsons won’t open their gifts and bleat a collective “Eeeewww!” so loud I’ll be able to hear it all the way across the country. I’m tempted to do the Revenge of the Grandparent thing, where we buy the kids a drum set or a play electric guitar. Or even worse, one of those recorders every kid learns to play—if you can call it that—in 5^th grade. Maybe I’ll do the chemistry set thing, so that my dear son can see the error of his ways brightly lit as his little scientist in the making whips up something slightly flammable but oh so colorful. Then there’s the Slime and Playdoh options, also known as “Your Carpet Will Never, Ever Be the Same” options.

You know, I think I’m inspired. I need to post this so I can go shopping. I saw a karaoke machine at Target with enough Disney tunes on it to make my point to my son loud and clear, or put him in a coma from all the buzzy tunes, and I think it’s on sale. Yes, that, and maybe a set of bongos, will make nice presents this year.

What about you? Experiencing any shopping woes? Highs? Got any advice? Please do share, and in the meantime, may you enjoy a very happy holiday season filled with peace, joy, and love. :)

8 Months Already??

From time to time, I share pics of my grandson because, really, that's what grandmas do :) He's been growing like crazy and since the last time I shared pics, the little guy can sit up on his own and is now getting around quite well, thank you, using the commando crawl.

Of course, he loves to read.

In fact, he's been known to devour his books.

The other day he was at our house and discovered his reflection in the front of the sound system hubby has plugged into the TV. The little guy had to kiss the baby.

And here's a little smile for all our Fierce Romance readers. Hey from the little guy who will be eight months old tomorrow.

Natasha
Voluptuous - coming Sept 6th - pre-order now
Her Royal Masquerade - coming fall 2013
Playing for Real - coming Feb 4
www.natashamoore.com

Welcome to the World, Little Guy!

I'm thrilled to share the news that my grandson was born this past Friday afternoon. He was 7 pounds, 15 ounces and measured 20 inches, those important statistics for those of you who like to know those things.

I'm sure he'll be told at some point that he was a Black Friday baby. But all that meant to us was that my daughter got to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner with family before going to the hospital.

My daughter and her husband struggled with fertility problems for several years, so to finally have this perfect little boy is even more of a blessing. Little guy's parents didn't agree on a name until he was born, Daddy finally giving in to Mommy's favorite. So, I hope you'll let me indulge in a little grandma bragging and show off some photos of my new grandson, Colin.

Only a few hours old, in his mommy's arms.

Grandma holding him for the first time.

He loves his grandma already, can't you tell?

Getting ready to go home.

Loving his swing.

And yes, Daddy says Colin is a Steelers fan.

Thanks for indulging a new grandma. I promise no more pictures, at least for a little while.

Natasha
Silken Canvas - coming Dec 25th
www.natashamoore.com