Bayou Kidz | Cherish The Days

article by Cindy G. Foust

Happy May readers, and dare I say it, happy mid-year anniversary as well. Because that’s where we are with 2025, slap dab in the middle of the year. We are literally on the cusp of the fall decorations hitting the retail chains and pivoting toward the holidays. And, we haven’t even had our fireworks and BBQ. I say we all take a deep breath and just enjoy this extraordinary weather we are having. I think we can all agree that in late April and early May, around here in these parts, the weather can be anything from Dorothy and Toto tornadoes to 14-inches of rain to a foot of snow. Am I wrong? But lately, the weather has been worthy of a Hallmark movie set, and I am here for it. 

As I write this column from the comfort of my rocking patio chair, the birds are chirping, the skies are bluebird blue, and there’s a wind pushing through my patio that has me feeling more like taking a nap than writing this column. I’m not kidding when I say, “these are the most splendid of days,” and in case I forgot to mention, enhanced by grandparenthood. Is that even a word? For the sake of this column, it will be, because it is a season, not to beat a dead horse, that we are enjoying very much. As this column has evolved over the years, any reader who has stayed with me that long knows that I weave my life’s stories into the pages of this magazine…or my friend’s stories…oh, and my neighbor’s stories. Really, anybody I see at the grocery store or the bank is subject to a column being written about them if I can use it to make a point, right? I’ve lived a lot of life during the past 12 years of writing for BayouLife and Scott and I have parented our way through much of that. Think Lucy and Ricky…or maybe Ethel and Fred now that we are grandparents, just trying to get our kids raised without any emotional blemishes. 

I’ve quoted the saying, “it takes a village,” through the years, and it’s cliché but never a truer quote when it comes to raising our families. I mean, how many sets of eyes and ears did my kids have on them during those formative teen years? Lots, I tell you. But at the same time, my friends and fellow teen-raisers, could count on us to have our eyes and ears on their kids. It’s a formula that worked and I’m grateful to have parented my way through those years with some of the best. Now, we find ourselves in this new season, where we take the calls from our kids with all the questions, seeking all the advice and wanting our opinion on everything from the type of olive oil we use to what kind of fertilizer to put on the ferns.

And it takes me back.

It takes me back to when I picked up the phone (and still do with my own mother) with those same questions. The waves of nostalgia take over some days, and I like to pretend I am actually Dorothy and Toto and close my eyes so I can hear my daddy’s distinct voice. I long to be able to hear him say when I call, “Hey, Sister, tell me a lie I got about 5 minutes.” He could always be trusted to elicit a giggle, no matter what the call might be about.

It’s funny now, that some of those calls seemed urgent in nature. Sometimes the “sky was falling” and sometimes I just needed a good dose of encouragement. Whether it was to Mom or Dad, the result was always the same…support. And let me tell you, if it involved one of the kids, as it frequently did, the “kids” were never wrong. Ever. And, now I get that. 

It’s a privilege really, to be on the receiving end of those phone calls. To be the one whose opinion is sought or whose encouragement is needed. Through some of my medical setbacks (let’s call them that), I remember praying, very specifically, for God to allow me to see my children grow up…to be a grandparent…to live. God heard my cries and here I am, walking alongside my children, and now my grandchild, as we navigate this beautiful life we have created. That He has created for us. And walking? A few weeks ago, my daughter, my daughter-in-love and my littlest love took off on a walk. On yet another perfect weather kind of day, we put the baby in a stroller and took off through the neighborhood. The girls started talking, probably about clothes and tans and shoes and make-up, and stuff they clearly do not (all caps) need my opinion on. And not to sound too cheesy, I was just kind of soaking it all in. I could see my little grandbaby out of the corner of my eye, and she was pointing her little finger at me. It’s a cute little habit she has, when she sees someone she knows, she points. And smiles. So I reached down and touched her finger…like a geriatric E.T. (phone home) and she grabbed it. And so it goes, we continued to walk, holding fingers, wind blowing through our hair, while the girls talked about what lipstick they were going to buy at Ulta. But not me…every few seconds or so, I would look down and make eye contact with this little baby and it, in a word, shook me. Well, that’s two words.

If I sound like an overzealous grandparent with “all the stories,” well, I will just have to, and I do so unapologetically. It’s the month of May, the month where we celebrate our role as a mother, as a grandmother, and all the roles that go along with those titles. Some of you may not have the privilege of making those calls, taking those walks, or reaching out for the advice you really need. I grieve with you because, well, I lost one-half of my sounding board, too. I do, however, get the honor of living in these days, these moments, that I hope I never ever take for granted.

And that’s my wish for you. It seems that some of my columns could be titled the same each month: live in the moment, stop and smell the roses, make the memories, cherish the days. But the truth is, we can’t say it enough. Time is truly fleeting, and just as soon as we put those Christmas lights in the attic, we will be dragging them out again. So holding the precious walks, the calls, the moments close is our thank you to the Universe for allowing us the privilege of being able to do so.

Cindy G. Foust is a wife, mom, author and blogger. You can find her blog at the alphabetmom.com for weekly columns about home life,  parenting, small business stories and insight with a smidgen of literacy. Give her a like or follow on Facebook and Instagram.