Becoming a Grandmother, Part Two

My first experience of seeing a grandmother in action, you know the type, absolutely head over heals in love with the new grandbaby (hello, my name is pot calling the kettle black- but more on that in Part Three) was my mother. I was a casual observer when my older sister had her children and noticed this phenomenon but I was still self involved and had not had children of my own at that point so I think I just sort of filed this curious behavior away. It is not to say this auntie was not completely in love with her first nephew, but I admit it was not all consuming. Until that is, my first child was born. One of my sister’s had a son born two months before mine so they spent their early years as best buddies and I got to experience this” loving a grand baby with abandon” in stereo. The two could not have been more different in personality and energy level. My mother loved them both wholeheartedly and equally. I remember her laughing when my son was first talking and he took his thumb out of his mouth to tell her that something was “pithing” him off. If I had said that at that age I would have had my mouth washed out with Ivory soap. What is going on? Why can he say it and I couldn’t? And why is she coming over to visit so much all of a sudden? And calling? No hello, only “Where’s the baby?”

I remember just looking at my mom as she appeared to be spoiling my child rotten. Allowing any and all behavior to go unchecked. It was all so amusing to her. I think I had to keep pushing my jaw closed. This was the same parent who raised me with the strictness of a nun in the Marine Corps. How, I would wonder, is this the same woman? I would get talked to in the third person as if my mom was a ventriloquist and my baby son would say something suspiciously in her voice because he couldn’t talk…’Oh, mom, I don’t like these cloth diapers. I want pampers’. Or “mom, I don’t want any more cereal. I want applesauce’. Then she would switch to talking straight to the baby, “You want some ice cream, don’t you?” and I would join in, “tell your grandma I am right here and can hear every word” This is the same woman that would tell me to have an apple when I wanted something sweet. Or no snacking in between meals.

I am not going to deny it. I feel exactly the same about my grandchildren. I am crazy in love with every one of them. I understand my mother’s behavior all too well, now. I wish she could see me act just like her. Or close to it. But I think what we get to see, and what my grown children who are now parents get to see, is perhaps a glimpse into what it was like for us as young mothers. We loved and cherished our new babies with the same abandon. We thought they were just perfect and still do. I don’t remember a lot of hugging and cuddling when I was a child but I am sure it must have happened. And I can tell you I hugged mine as much as they would tolerate but it felt like never enough. Somewhere along the way life gets busy and serious and crazy and with my parents having seven children maybe there was not a whole lot of time for that. It was a different time with different parenting styles.

But when I would see my mother with her own grandchildren, I got a glimpse into the past and how my mother may have behaved as a new mom. How much she did love me. And maybe for her and all of us as grandparents, there is this renewed opportunity to hold on to that time. To relive it. To hug more. To not take it so seriously. To laugh and lighten up just a bit. For we have learned by stage that time is so precious and moment are fleeting. Too valuable to waste on what no longer matters. Having a new baby is such a hopeful time. We want to protect them from all harm. All that matters is love. To love with abandon knowing full well you can pass those babies off to the parents for the tough parts of raising them. We, as grandparents get to have all the fun. Grandmothers relationships can remain uncomplicated with pure unadulterated love and joy.

If we are lucky, that’s how we all start out. That as much as I love my own children, my mother loved me that way too. And as much as my kids love their own babies, that’s how much I love them…in spite of my parenting mistakes. Please forgive me. Circle of life. Circle of life.