Grandparents making a better world, one kid at a time
I never had grandparents. Well, technically of course my parents both had parents. I rarely spent time with them, certainly not enough to have a real relationship. They were in Nebraska and we were in Virginia.
It was my parents relationships with my two children that really taught me what being a grandparent could mean. I was living in NJ when my son was born and both my parents came to see us very soon after his birth. There is a wonderful photograph of my mother watching me changing his diapers. The photo reinforces for me the reality that they never tried to tell me what to do with my children. Their confidence in my parenting abilities was truly a wonderful gift.
After my son’s birth, we soon moved from NJ to McLean, Virginia, my hometown and where my parent were still living. My parents saw a lot of their grandson and were a great help to me, especially when I was in graduate school. The fondest childhood memories my son has of his grandparents are the visits to their weekend farm house nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in central Virginia. My son helped my father tend his apple trees and they hiked around the farm. A pivotal memory of my father’s devotion to his grandson was when my son returned to visit his grandfather after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. My son had just completed his dissertation in physics and brought a copy with him. In the dining room of his nursing home, my father leafed through every page of the 250 page dissertation. Not reading, just acknowledging the work and significance of the document.
When my daughter was born years later, my parents again stepped up and played a major role in her care. When she was a toddler, my husband dropped her off at 8 am at my parents’ house on his way to work. I would pick her up at noon. We’d have lunch together. A special memory for me is hearing my mother say Dad had rocked my daughter for hours one day when she was sick. You can’t buy that kind of love. As I look back on those days now, 20 plus years after their deaths, I am so extremely grateful for that time we all shared. Of course my daughter’s experience with her grandparents differed significantly from my son’s, my parents were much older. Fast forward from her care as a toddler, my daughter got to help feed my mother in her advanced stages of Alzheimers and be a care-giver for her.
My daughter let us know she was pregnant by giving her Dad a Father’s Day card with her sonogram in it. We were thrilled and told them then we would do what we could to help. I was pleased they wanted our help. Three years ago, my husband and I moved from our home of 13 years in Lynchburg, Virginia to Brooklyn to help her with her son. I was ready for a change and we both embraced the challenge/change/grandparenthood with enthusiasm. In retrospect I was pretty naive about the adjustment to BIG city living, but like everything there are pluses and minuses. A plus of course is our family here.
I feel very fortunate that both of my children have thrived and I know the constant, consistent and stable loving presence of their grandparents was a major factor. What do we offer to my grandson? Well, I will say my husband is an amazing grandfather. He is infinitely patient and clever at finding just the right thing to stimulate or calm his grandson. Our grandson repays him with nothing less than complete adoration. I am told he wakes up asking for grandpa. As an educator, I take seriously my responsibility to introduce him to the treasures of Mother Nature. We collect leaves, dig in the dirt, look at insects and generally spend as much time outdoors as we can. He adores his parents but we add to the “village” that supports him with love and care.
