Eleven years ago, I was looking forward to the imminent start of one of life's exciting transitions - becoming a grandparent. Of course, at the time, I didn't really understand what that meant for my life, because I had never been one, and like most life changes, you don't really understand it until you go through it.
I didn't have grandparents. They all died when I was very young or before I was born, so I never had the grandparent experience myself. So I didn't know what it was like to have a grandparent. I did know from some of my cousins that I missed out on something special. But I wasn't really clear on what, exactly, that experience was. Because I didn't really see myself in the role that they described their grandmother filling - a woman always in the kitchen cooking and baking and making treats and loving her family by feeding everyone. That just isn't my style. So what was my style of grandmother going to be?
Lets just say I spiraled from there. What kind of grandmother doesn't bake? Was I going to be any kind of grandmother? What do I know about grandmothering, anyway? I barely know about kids, I'm not great with kids.... Spiral, spiral.... (I'm just gonna be honest here. I don't handle change all that well. Even good change. It takes me a hot minute to get with the program, but I do eventually get there.)
My own kids had a grandmother, of course. My Silent Gen mother was their grandmother, and her style wasn't really my style, either. She was a good grandmother, don't get me wrong. She loves her grandchildren, cares deeply about them, definitely bakes a great apple pie and every kind of Christmas cookie, but I knew I wanted to be a different kind of grandmother than her, too. I wanted to be a down on the floor, ninja turtle fighting, playdoh playing, finger painting grandmother who climbed jungle gyms and went on walks and read books and really spent quality time with my grandchildren kind of grandmother.
But then there was another problem, because I lived 600 miles away. So how will they EVER even get to know me? Will they even know who I am? Or will I just be this person who occasionally drops by, a stranger their mother calls mom, but who they don't really know and never feel comfortable with?
And then, getting to the true heart of the matter, the real secret fear of fears, the thing that scared me more than anything else that I hardly dared admit even to myself, but when I did, the thing that other people scoffed at, but that was a real fear for me, and that I honestly would have been afraid of whether I had lived 600 miles away or next door - I knew they would love me, because, after all, I AM their grandmother, but what if they don't like me?
It sounds kind of silly, I suppose, but eleven years ago, I was really, really scared that this brand new human being who held my heart in his tiny hands wouldn't like me because somehow I would fail to measure up. And then, the day I met him, Collin handed him to me, and he settled into my arms and I held him close, and he looked into my eyes with such trust and innocence, and my heart melted into a puddle, and I realized that I would do anything in the world for this child of my child, and I stopped worrying about being enough and just was. As it turns out, I was good enough just as I was, and he did like me after all!
Two years later, it was an entirely different scenario. Dan and I excitedly drove down to Bentonville when Erin called to tell us she was in labor, a memory we both cherish. Erin called periodically to give updates on the progress, and the timing couldn't have been better. We were close when R was born, and we were heading to the hospital when a request for Chick Fil A came in! So we stopped and got that to go, and after a brief detour to the wrong hospital (communication was not our strong point, apparently, haha) we got to see new life at an hour old. What a miracle and a joy that is. Truly unforgettable.
None of the fears or worries came with baby number two, of course, just the joys and excitement, because this time I understood what to expect. But again, when I looked into those baby eyes, the child of my own beloved child, time stopped, my heart melted all over again, and I once again knew it was enough just to be.
All the years between then and now have flown by so quickly. No one told me grandparenting went so quickly. The boys are loving and caring and even like me most of the time. LOL. We did all the things I dreamed of doing, and I was exactly the kind of grandmother I dreamed of being. I have been to the top of the climbing tree, and have bought bags of playdoh, and crayons and markers galore. We have gone to the zoo, and the museums and the playground more times than I can remember. We have walked and talked and played and run and crawled and roared and laughed and even cried together a few times. We have rocked and sung and cuddled on the couch and watched movies while munching popcorn. I still don't understand what Roblox are, so they still have things to teach me! And we still have camping to do and fun to have and serious conversations ahead, I think.
Being a grandmother freed me to be so much more spontaneous than I was as a mom, and it is fun and freeing and different. But I wasn't ready for it to fly by so fast. I wasn't ready to give up the smell of crayons and playdoh so soon, for the trucks and cars to be put away so quickly, for friends and video games to become so important this early. Did time go by this rapidly when I was a parent? Somehow, it seemed like I had more time then. But now I see time with older eyes, and I realize how brief childhood really is, and I savor it all the more for the brevity.
There is a special connection between generations, I think, where you continue the family story. They ask me questions, some fun, some difficult, some which are very real. As they are getting older, they want to know their family history, especially about their mom as a little girl, and as their grandmother, I am now the one who holds that history for them. I am the key to their more distant past, stories of great-grandparents and growing up on the farm when I was a little girl and stories about their mom when she was little, just as they are the key to the future.
As our little boys turn into bigger boys, I hold on to the present lightly, on the one hand wishing I could keep them little for awhile longer, but at the same time looking forward to seeing them grow and mature into the men they will become. I hope I will be around for a long time to come and get to dance at their weddings and maybe even some day have the joy of holding their little ones and getting to look them in the eyes and feel that melting feeling one more precious time.
Happy birthday to two of the loves of my life. Grandmama <3
