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Learning and Loving the #GrandmaProject

photo of grandkids

I was chatting with my niece (who is coming to visit this week – yay!) about my #grandmaproject and she mentioned that she thought her “parents also came to see them and not just the grand kids.” A pause, then, an “I hope.”

Boy, that brought back a flood of memories of being the parent, not the grand parent. My mom will probably deny this, but she almost knocked me down a couple of times trying to get to the grand kids. I can remember standing there thinking, “Um, hi, Mom.”

And now I’ve become That grandma, though I am very careful not to knock the daughter-in-law down and TO greet her before approaching the grand kids. The fact that galloping toward them would scare the two-year-old-perfect-in-every-way grand kids has nothing to do with my careful courtesy. It’s just how I roll.

This did get me to pondering why grand parenting is so different from parenting. I mean, there is the obvious lack of personal accountability in being a grand parent. My one job is to be delighted. That’s pretty cool and lot less tiring. But it feels like so much more.

It’s kind of mystical, IMHO. At my class reunion (if you really want to know which class reunion, you can search for the blog post cuz I’m not gonna say it again), after the “wow, look at you” moments all we really wanted to talk/brag about was our grand children. It was actually kinda cute and hilarious. I was like, yeah, we have twin grand kids and someone asks, “Don’t you write books?” and I’m like, “Oh yeah, but I have TWIN grand kids!”

I love my kids, the ones with, and the ones without children. I’m very proud of them and love visiting with them, adore having them close enough to hug. I LOVE being a mom. Maybe it’s just that I’m still figuring out this grandma stuff. Or that it brings back the memories of being a mom. I truly don’t know.

It feels separate and different from being a mom, like a new and wondrous adventure. My mom world started small and grew and grew until I had these amazing adults that I look at and think, “wow, how did they turn out so good with me in charge of raising them?”

And now my world has gotten small again.

And these delightful small beings help me remember MY grandmothers and how amazing they were. I learned things from them that no one else could have taught me. I know that the love I felt in their homes was familiar AND different from home.

My grand kids are too young to learn much from me yet. It’s pretty basic, things like:

  • If grandma gets out her phone and I want it, she will give it to me without even hesitating. (And yes, I’ve learned things about my phone FROM the grandkids. #humiliating) And if I delete or move her apps or folders, she will laugh. She has apps, stories and Shawn the Sheep just for me. She also lets me use up all her Bomb Birds in Angry Birds. So I leave her selfies to thank her.
  • She will also give me what she’s eating and (after a look to Mom for permission) almost anything she is drinking except Diet Dr. Pepper. (#Grandmaknowsbetterthanthat)

There’s a little more, but it’s mostly “grandma will do what I want unless it’s dangerous or against the Parent Rules.”

Mostly, I hope they are learning to recognize “grandma love.” To feel as safe with me as I felt with my grandmas.

So, my grand kids are too young to read this and I’m not sure my blog will be here when they are old enough to read it or care about it. So I guess this is for my kids, who might be feeling a little, “what about me, mom?” blink, blink. Please read above where you delight and amaze me, too. And be gentle with me as I navigate this strange and wonderful new thing called being a grandma.

So, have your parents ever knocked you down trying to get to your kids? Have you elbowed a kid aside trying to get to the grandkids? Felt like your parents have forgotten you exist? You know I love comments so much that I pick a favorite to receive my monthly AnaBanana gift basket ($25 value).  Recipient is announced the first blog post of the new month.

AnaBanana logo

Perilously yours,


P.S. It’s the middle of March and I don’t have a St. Pat’s book, per see, but I do have a New Orleans book where they celebrate St. Pat’s, so I’m going with that.

Relatively Risky cover art

The Big Easy isn’t always easy…

Read Relatively Risky before Dead Spaces releases this spring!

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