It’s been seven years since I’ve held a newborn grandbaby, but I had that privilege Thanksgiving when Dad took him out of his carrier and handed him to me. Jace Carter was born November 11 so he was a bit over two weeks old when I held him for the first time. He’s the second of my great-grandchildren, both are boys. We are a small, closely knit family, and his big brother Aidan is smitten, as are we all.
The other day my granddaughter heard Aidan speaking as if in conversation from the bedroom where Jace was sleeping. She crept to the door and there, on his knees, knelt big brother, book in hand reading aloud to the baby. I have this photo in the mess that is my computer but searched for it and can’t find it. Will post it on Facebook when I finally locate it. Already made a print of it so know I’m not dreaming. Grandmas and especially great grandmas often get this way.
Holding Jace sent me back in time to holding my first and second grandsons, born 9 months apart, to our son and his wife and our daughter and her husband. Being a grandmother is as far removed from being a mother as the moon from the earth. Why, I never quite figured out. Perhaps it’s that we grandmothers have all the perks without any of the demands of motherhood. Or beyond that, it may be the maturity that allows us to “let it be,” and not worry so much if we’re doing something wrong.
I turned 19 the month before our daughter was born and 21 three months before our son’s birth. Still a child in many respects myself, we sort of grew up together, which meant we experienced the squabbles of most kids. With no training whatsoever, my husband and I were thrown into the most important job of our lifetimes. So it was a crap shoot if we’d do the best job possible in raising them.
All I can say is neither ever went to jail, got on dope, or led a derogatory life. They might not have led the life we wanted for them, but they led a life of which they are proud. And I guess that’s all that’s important in the end. We are not only proud of our children, but of our grandchildren as well. And what more could we hope for?
This holiday season always brings out the philosophical in me, but family and love are so important in our lives, more important than our work, or recreation or hobbies. And that’s as it should be.