We do our imperfect best. From the moment we push them naked and helpless from our bodies, they’re ours to nurture, protect, and love. They come without instructions and each one is so uniquely different that a single guidebook would never suffice.
One of the real pleasures of having grandchildren is watching them grow into very distinctive individuals.
One minute, there is a little new born baby, looking sweet and untouched. Then, in what feels like no time at all, you suddenly have a child with a strong personality. It is quite breath-taking.
The last 2 weeks have been spent having summer fun with kids and grandkids. These experiences amplified the discussion that was already going on in my head. What will I leave as a legacy? What will be left behind when I am no longer here?
Recently a violent summer storm swept through the Atlanta-area community where we live near our grandchildren. My seven-year-old grandson Owen, who only a few weeks before had finally become comfortable with July 4th holiday fireworks, rushed from his bed to his parents’ room.
Will she go or will she stay? Recorded by the group, Journey, these lyrics from the song, “Never Walk Away,” are about impetuous young lovers who married quickly then realized they didn’t get along. That situation doesn’t apply to me but the question is one I’ve been asking myself for nine months.
I clearly remember the day the job started. It was summer. Bright sunshine pouring through the open window of my daughter’s London flat. We were visiting for Sunday lunch and making small talk with her lovely husband while she put the finishing touches to the meal.
As your children take that giant step of becoming parents themselves, what do you feel about how they are doing? Some grandmothers are highly impressed with the way their grandchildren are being brought up. Others are disappointed or even distressed.
Growing up we lived several miles from the nearest town. I wandered the woods and rocky cliffs along the Mississippi River. At six or seven years old Mother sent me with an empty honey pail to pick wild strawberries in the meadow or blueberries in the marsh. I never thought to be afraid.
Are you a grandmother? Does that give you absolute joy or considerable worry? Or perhaps both? I will be writing a monthly guest post on Sixty and Me for grandmothers and grandmothers-to-be. This will discuss a wide range of issues affecting women when their child has a child or, indeed, their children have many children.
As a native-born Texan, my Daddy was geographically and culturally predisposed to be a storyteller.
Since everything is supposed to be bigger and better in Texas, it was sometimes hard to separate the fact from the fiction in his tales. Like the beginning of this short story about a popular game of the time he played with his brothers, sisters, and friends.