Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The ReEducation of Grammy

Oh, to be a grandma. All the fun of having a kid, and not nearly the same kind of work. Would grandma ever make a grandson sit at the table until he ate his peas? No. Would grandma ever refuse to go to the park because grandson didn't clean up his toys? No. Would grandma ever even consider grandson not being able to do what he wants because he told a little white lie? Of course not. Would grandma make her little grandson miss his 9th grade dance because he accidentally got a ride to school with an older kid when apparently he was told he could not? She wouldn't dream of it.

I think we all see the pattern.

We are so lucky with the bevy of grandparents our son acquired. They are filled with a buoyancy by the mere mention of his name and would see him everyday if they could. He even has great-grandparents which is a rare and fantastic part of his history. My grandparents had all passed by the time I was an adolescent so I don't reminisce the same way JohnnyMac does about being a little boy and him and his brother climbing out the window after bed time to wander across the field to hang out with their grandparents. Sneaking out to watch the Late Show with Grandma? I love it.

Since we had our son in our mid 30's, its been awhile since our parents had to be caught up on all the new tips, techniques, and safety requirements for babies. I will say they adapt quickly and look at the process as we do: a learning experience that takes some adjustments. However, a few funny things have happened along the way.

First, we are new at this and everyday we learn something we didn't know before. It is not always easy to share the knowledge with other grown adults, especially our moms who have raised more kids between them then we ever will. Sometimes it is like riding a bike, but sometimes it is not.

We do love that they ask us now if they can buy him certain things prior to purchase. And I don't mean a book, more like the motorized golf cart in our garage built specifically for pint size up and comers. He is loved loved loved that is for sure, but it does not mean there have not been some hilarious mishaps.

Let's tell a story. We flew to Arizona one weekend when our baby was seven months old to meet up with my mom. It was a great midway point and a surprise for me and my mom by JohnnyMac.

My mom was thrilled and wanted to have baby sleep in her room so we could get some sound sleep. One morning, my mom knocked and said she would feed munchkin his breakfast. He was in a high chair and I had his food all ready to go. I gave my mom the warning not to get the bowl of cereal too close to him because he was a grabber. She gave me this look, and oh what a precious look it was, and said "Honey, I did raise three children." Can't argue with that! So I left her room to get ready for the day.

Upon my return to her room, I wasn't quite sure what happened. I thought maybe a stratus cloud made entirely of cooled cereal had appeared and rained down on them both. My mom had cereal from hair to pedicure. I surveyed the damage from a safe distance before asking what happened. She said, "He grabbed the bowl.....and the spoon."

Oh, I laughed but I promise you, I was laughing with her.

And once, on a visit to Seattle, my mom was feeding little man in the kitchen. He was older and much more agile. And as she gave him his buttered toast, in all its cute little cut up squares, she decided that she would share some with the dog who was parked underfoot with hopeful eyes and licking her doggie chops. As my mom is cascading piece after piece of toast to her dog, Josie, I smile and tell her that is probably not a good idea. She looked at me, puzzled. And two seconds later, our son is hurtling down pieces of toast "JOSIE EAT TOAST!!!!!!" I saw the light bulb over my mom's head, believe me.

And we laughed. Lessons learned, on a sometimes daily basis.

And she knows that she is a fantastic grandmother no matter what, and she knows it takes a little reeducation sometimes. At least she never got peed on which is more than I can say for our son's parents.

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