To clarify: Camp Grandma and any conflicting events are not advisable. Upon returning from the annual convention, I found a messy house and a very unhappy camper.
My hubby.
The same man who assured me things would be fine, go ahead and go, blah, blah, blah, had an aloof and irritated manner under the surface. I recognized this because I also am a pouter. Although he urged me to go, he seemed resentful that I was not there to run things.
Everything ran smoothly, no one was hurt, arrested, or otherwise. But I was not there. He could not depend on me to handle things. You know, the things that he pays no attention to when I am there. Many things are handled that he knew nothing about. Until I wasn’t there to handle them. Bad Grandma.
When resentments build up in your mind, they eventually find their way out. While the dust settles, a tense, misty-eyed silence ensues until the one who exploded approaches and explains what just happened. We quietly explain our emotions. Then we hug and make mental notes to ourselves to pay more attention to each other’s feelings in the future.
Even strong, loving relationships can hit a momentary roadbump. Humans are not perfect beings. We all know this, and yet somehow we expect the ones we know and love to be.
Ever since I can remember, family gatherings meant playing games- cards and dominoes. After Thanksgiving dinner, we would work on a jigsaw puzzle. I say “we,” but I wasn’t much help when I was a kid. I was not included in all the games that were played. I would hang out in the family room regardless, just to listen. You never heard such arguing! My family was the original “Family Feud.”
Meanwhile, in a different town in California, my hubby’s family played games, mostly cards and dominoes. They were different from the ones my family played but just as competitive and loud. At the first gathering, my hubby took me to, I must have learned 7 new games. I was also told that to be in their family, I had to play pinocle. After many painful attempts to teach me that game, an exception to the rule was decided. I believe that not playing with me made the game fun for them again. I truly sucked.
Fast-forward to the present, and our kids and their kids are continuing with this tradition. The games have changed over the years, especially when hubby’s Uncle taught us ‘Hand and Foot.’ Everyone loves to play that one. I recommend that anyone not familiar with that game Google it. There are a million variations, but decide on one and have a blast!
These can be joyful, nostalgic, sad, and heartwrenching. But you already knew that.
Last month’s milestone hit all four categories for me – my first granddaughter graduated High School. I keep having flashbacks to her (and mine) much younger days. Some of you, longtime readers, have witnessed her growing up through this blog.
She became 18 this summer (an adult!) This fall, she began her college journey. I’m so proud of her, and I always have been. Even as a toddler, she was smart, not just the ABCs or numbers, but smart in general. Like she could reason things out. A natural leader, she practically ran the preschool she attended. Her schoolmates followed her lead. I think back on it and wonder if they even had a choice. The girl is a powerful, strong-willed force when she puts her mind to it. Her sweet face somehow disarmed her in people’s minds, and they did not realize they were being bossed around.
My daughter would remind me – “don’t let her boss you around!” She forgets that I raised a strong-willed daughter myself. She would be surprised to learn that I admired her strong will and assertiveness. Her teenage years wore me out because I am a natural pacifist. A follower, not a leader. Timid and not assertive. Yet, I had to stand up to her and stick to my guns because I am a mom. Moms don’t give up.
I used to think that a mom’s reward (revenge?) was when you watched your child deal with their own kids that were just like them. Although that is kind of fun, the reward is so much better than that. It’s the grandchildren. You don’t even realize this until you have one, and that is probably because no one has the words to explain the overwhelming joy and love that takes over your heart. The shock of how intense the emotions are is confusing – you did not feel this way when your own child was born. And why not? Should you feel guilty about this?
At first, I felt guilty about the lack of such intense love for my child. I struggled with this until it occurred to me that what made it different was the fear. It was not there with the grandchild.
I was not her parent. The “business end” of being a mom is not my job. You know – the business of doctor & dentist appointments, parent-teacher conferences, field trips, permission slips, and absence notes. And that is only the school stuff.
This sweet baby in my arms has good parents to take care of all that and then some. Baby and grandma have a lot of cuddling and giggling to do. Snuggling up in the big chair by the wood stove, watching Backyardigans. Maybe Free Willy or Three Ninjas,for the upteenth millionth time.
The next thing you know – they are starting college.
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