Grandmotherhood Revisited

My daughter and her husband just had their first baby and have been thrown into the pool of parenting stress with a sudden and resounding splash. And so it should be. It's all part of the circle of life, or as I prefer to say, what comes around goes around.

Though the actual care of my first grandchild doesn't fall on my shoulders, there is a much bigger and profound issue that I have been forced to deal with earlier than expected. It is the issue of GRANDMOTHER-ness.

When one says the word grandma images of a kindly white haired lady, puttering around in a flowered house-dress and ruffled pink apron come to mind. A constantly stocked cookie jar and a conspiratorial wink that lets a grandchild know that sugar highs are okay at granny's house. An older woman with clever and insightful wisdom to share, that's come from finally having all her own children out and on their own.

Please, that isn't me. I have four children still living under my roof (five that I'm financially supporting). I'm still trying to lose the last five or ten or fifteen or... well it's none of your business how much baby fat I'm still trying to get rid of - and the baby is sixteen. I have yet to understand such mysteries as teenagers, how to have some paycheck left at the end of the month, or even what I want to be when I grow up. How can I possibly be ready for grandmotherhood?

And to make it worse, the little guy is a doll. You don't even have to be a grandma to feel that. So how can I enjoy this new little person in my world without the feeling that I'm being pushed over-the-hill and under-the-bridge when it comes to my life?

Here is my suggestion. If a card company can invent a major holiday without a presidential decree or blessing from the Pope, then surely I, a humble mother myself, can create a new title in the family hierarchy.

I propose, grandmother-in-training, a position that is not quite up there with the saintly grandmamma, but requires a little less responsibility than mom. As a grandmother-in-training or GIT for short, I'm allowed to GIT out of all the same thing's other grandma's avoid, such as, changing dirty diapers, getting up with a fussy baby, and having to wear the baby backpack when we go to the zoo. Those are clearly mommy things and I am not the mommy.

However, unlike a normal grandmother, I don't have to be wise and know all the answers. I don't have to put signs on my grass saying, "Grandchildren Spoiled Here". I don't have to drink prune juice or walk with a cane. I GIT to continue pursuing my hobbies, wear normal clothes, and fantasize that the young man at the grocery check out counter thinks I'm pretty sexy for an older woman. (I said it was fantasy!)

Statistics say that we are living longer and longer every year. The stage of adolescents, that use to last until eighteen, has now dragged out through the twenties, and even into the thirties for some people I know. If I could live to be one hundred and ten, I think that the title of GIT isn't just a nice thought, it's a necessity!

And so I declare my independence. Yes, I do have a grandbaby who I adore, but I am also a GIT and proud of it. Take that tradition!My daughter and her husband just had their first baby and have been thrown into the pool of parenting stress with a sudden and resounding splash. And so it should be. It's all part of the circle of life, or as I prefer to say, what comes around goes around.

Though the actual care of my first grandchild doesn't fall on my shoulders, there is a much bigger and profound issue that I have been forced to deal with earlier than expected. It is the issue of GRANDMOTHER-ness.

hen one says the word grandma images of a kindly white haired lady, puttering around in a flowered house-dress and ruffled pink apron come to mind. A constantly stocked cookie jar and a conspiratorial wink that lets a grandchild know that sugar highs are okay at granny's house. An older woman with clever and insightful wisdom to share, that's come from finally having all her own children out and on their own.

Please, that isn't me. I have four children still living under my roof (five that I'm financially supporting). I'm still trying to lose the last five or ten or fifteen or... well it's none of your business how much baby fat I'm still trying to get rid of - and the baby is sixteen. I have yet to understand such mysteries as teenagers, how to have some paycheck left at the end of the month, or even what I want to be when I grow up. How can I possibly be ready for grandmotherhood?

And to make it worse, the little guy is a doll. You don't even have to be a grandma to feel that. So how can I enjoy this new little person in my world without the feeling that I'm being pushed over-the-hill and under-the-bridge when it comes to my life?

Here is my suggestion. If a card company can invent a major holiday without a presidential decree or blessing from the Pope, then surely I, a humble mother myself, can create a new title in the family hierarchy.

I propose, grandmother-in-training, a position that is not quite up there with the saintly grandmamma, but requires a little less responsibility than mom. As a grandmother-in-training or GIT for short, I'm allowed to GIT out of all the same thing's other grandma's avoid, such as, changing dirty diapers, getting up with a fussy baby, and having to wear the baby backpack when we go to the zoo. Those are clearly mommy things and I am not the mommy.

However, unlike a normal grandmother, I don't have to be wise and know all the answers. I don't have to put signs on my grass saying, "Grandchildren Spoiled Here". I don't have to drink prune juice or walk with a cane. I GIT to continue pursuing my hobbies, wear normal clothes, and fantasize that the young man at the grocery check out counter thinks I'm pretty sexy for an older woman. (I said it was fantasy!)

Statistics say that we are living longer and longer every year. The stage of adolescents, that use to last until eighteen, has now dragged out through the twenties, and even into the thirties for some people I know. If I could live to be one hundred and ten, I think that the title of GIT isn't just a nice thought, it's a necessity!

And so I declare my independence. Yes, I do have a grandbaby who I adore, but I am also a GIT and proud of it. Take that tradition!

Deanne Blackhurst has been freelance writing for the past twenty-five years. She's the author of two published novels as well as numoerous articles for magazines, newspapers and webcontent. The mother of six children, Deanne is a stay at home mom who specializes in articles about the funny side of home life. Please visit her website at [http://www.deanneblackhurst.com].