Family

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My children tease me and say it's because I didn't want to be old. I guess they could be right, but I really think it was because I had never experienced it. Being a grandmother, I mean. At first, I was just so happy that my daughter, Renee, was going to be a mother. I did know something about that and it continues to be something I really enjoy.

But then Abbie was born and it didn't take me too long to decide that this is a good thing - being a grandmother and in the last six years, I have gradually become one of those typical grandmothers with a purse full of pictures and so many cute stories that I am happy to share.

Which I just know you are anxious to read -

Abbie was recently baptized. It was a special experience for her. Our family and friends gathered around Abbie in a prayer circle. As my son-in-law, Wally, was thanking the Lord for the Christian heritage that he and Renee and their children have, he became emotional.

“Don’t cry, daddy,” we all heard Abbie's three-year-old sister, Allie, say. Then she suggested he could put his head on her shoulder as a means of comfort.

When someone sneezes, the most common response is “God Bless You”, but somewhere along the road I’ve come up with another expression. I have no idea where it came from. I do know that recently when Abbie sneezed and her mother said, “God Bless You”, Abbie had a different response.

“Oh no, mom,” she said. “Say what grand says – say, aketchacoo.”

And the youngest granddaughter, Grace, certainly knows how to pull my heart strings. I loved it when she said, “tell me about when my daddy was a little boy, grandma.”

They are all endearing to me and I count it a privilege to be their grandmother. I also recognize it as a responsibility. Oh, I know that the main part of their upbringing rests with their parents and that I get to be just one of the spoilers. But from the day I learned that Abbie was on the way, I’ve given lots of thought and prayer to my role as a grandmother.

As I have reflected on what makes being a grandmother special (in addition to the fact that the granddaughters are incredible), I have come to believe that I love being a grandmother because I loved being a granddaughter.

They were very different - my grandmothers. My mother’s mother enjoyed entertaining, working in the yard and had a very caring heart. She was, however, sometimes grumpy (we now know that much of that was connected to the fact that she was a diabetic).

My father’s mother always smelled like Avon perfume, gave us coffee-milk, and loved pretty clothes and shoes. She was sometimes critical of others.

I guess you could say, they both had boo boo’s.

Which helps me deal with mine.

As much as I might like my granddaughters to remember me without spot or wrinkle, I know that’s not at all realistic. Besides, they have already seen me with a boo boo.

I had tripped on my shoe string and fallen on the pavement just before Abbie and Allie came for a visit some time back. My knee was black and blue and they were quite curious to see that grand had a boo boo.

In a child’s mind, a grandmother doesn’t get those.

As they grow up they will see that their grandmother not only has a bruise or a scrape sometimes, but that she also has some of those nasty negative character traits. Many years from now when they remember me, I imagine they will think someone who loved to entertain, who had a closet floor filled with shoes, and who really enjoyed helping people. I expect they will also remember that I am opinionated, can be critical and that I am a perfectionist.

I also expect as those little girls grow up, I’ll have more and more cute little “grandma” stories and they’ll have many opportunities to see what’s good and what’s bad about me. I guess you could say that I hope they remember the good, but that they also understand that it’s not the end of the world to know that grand’s got a boo boo.

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