Relishing my Grandma-hood

These charming mice appeared in my mailbox on a birthday card from my 11-year-old granddaughter. The accompanying message said, “I’m so glad you’ve stuck with me for all my life.” Oh, Sweetie! So am I and how could I not have?

 Her little brother’s card, with rocketship graphics, said, “I love you so much my heart flys to neptune ♥”

These two cards are a continuous delight and I’ve been reflecting on grandparenting since I opened them. (Not that grandparenting has been far from my thoughts lately, since we are regularly babysitting for our 3-year-old grandson these days.)

 I never had a “grandma.” We called one of our grandmothers Grandmother Gustafson and the other one Florence. In grade school, I made a brief foray into grandma territory. Helping Florence with the dinner dishes one evening, I ventured to call her Grandma. Florence pivoted towards me and proclaimed in a stentorious voice, “You may call me Grandmother or you may call me Florence, but I am nobody’s Grandma.” Point taken, Florence.

 My mother told me she preferred to be called Mother rather than Mom, but she was, nonetheless, Grandma Jeanne to her hordes of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It went without saying that I would be Grandma Lane. I could picture it, too. I would be the Grandma the kids loved to visit when they were little and confide in when they were older. I even saved my kids’ picture books and stuffed animals for their future kids’ visits to Grandma’s house.

 In a twist of fate, the first grandchildren I got were my stepson’s kids. Because his mother had disappeared with him when he was a toddler, and kept him hidden his whole childhood, I didn’t meet him until good fortune and Facebook reconnected him to Michael in 2009. By that time, he had already married and had two children, then 6 and 9, who had ample grandparents in their daily lives. Consequently, we have a warm and loving relationship with them as Lane and Michael, not Grandma and Grandpa. Because they live in Oregon and have never visited our home, my book and toy collection didn’t get used with them.

 Grandma-hood finally arrived when our son had his children, those delightful creatures whose birthday cards I quoted above. Unfortunately, he had the temerity to move to New York City to fall in love and have a family. Visits happen regularly, but more often us traveling north then them traveling south, and so the books and toys still have gotten little use.

 Our oldest daughter, who lives practically next door by Houston standards (8 miles), skipped children. Our youngest daughter, who lived a 5-hour drive from us at the time, had three. I began to believe that my stash of goodies would finally be put to regular use.

 I’ve had one special toy put aside for a future granddaughter for many years: our youngest’s My Twin doll, which we gave her for Christmas in elementary school. As the name implies, it had the same facial shape, same skin tone, same eye color, and same hair style as our daughter. They looked alike right down to the glasses they both wore. We invested in look-alike clothes for them and I enjoyed the turned heads that followed them around whenever we went out. When she had Heaven, and later, Hayden, I expected that the My Twin doll would eventually move in with them.

 Tragically, both Heaven and Hayden died in a house fire in 2022, on Hayden’s first birthday. Heaven was just days short of 4-years old. Our grandson came along a few months later, a beacon in the darkness. Now that our daughter lives in Houston, we are regular overnight babysitters. It delights me that the books and the toys finally get plenty of use. I’m into my Grandma-hood!!

 When our daughter outgrew her doll, I sent it back to the factory’s doll hospital and had her reconditioned. Looking like new, she has sat in my closet in her custom case, with her special clothes, for 20 years, waiting to be loved again, but I don’t think our grandson will appreciate her. And I’d be mighty surprised to get another granddaughter at this late stage in the game. Giving the doll back to our daughter is fraught. I worry that it will painfully remind her of what will never be.

 Problems for another day. Today I’m basking in the wonders of grandchildren near and far who love me! I love being loved by them. I am so glad to be a grandma.

 Ciao.