“I always knew my grandmother loved me. She saved me, gave me any confidence I have today, and her chocolate chip cookies were the best,” says my friend.
Grandparents are a group of unsung heroes who deserve a standing ovation. Their impact is profound, their presence is a soothing balm, and their wisdom is increasingly crucial. They are that secret spice in a family recipe.
We’re living in a time when both parents are frequently juggling work and the daunting task of raising children. Any number of changes in family life, such as divorce, changing job locations, military deployment or joblessness can lead to the need for grandparents’ help. They ride in on their superhero capes to mend ripped clothing, go to the games, share family history and teach children values.
About one in ten children in the United States is being raised by grandparents. This represents a silent army of grandparents who have altered their retirement plans, set aside their leisure, and repositioned themselves as caregivers for their grandkids. Grandparents raised some of the most influential figures in history, such as Maya Angelou, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama. They must have experienced a profound sense of fulfillment seeing the accomplishments of their descendants.
There’s something magical about becoming the go-to person for chocolate chip cookies, but let’s not gloss over the challenges that come with being a grandparent. Those little rascals come with a lot of energy, and grandparents aren’t exactly in their prime. Diabetes, high blood pressure, and arthritis might knock on the door, but do they know who they’re dealing with? Though they may become exhausted easily, get anxious about minor issues and have little understanding of their grandchildren’s computer-oriented lives, they’re superheroes in sensible shoes, navigating a
world dominated by virtual reality.
Stepping in when parents need a breather, imparting a legacy of values, and bridging the generational gap, grandparents are the connective tissue, the GPS that guides grandchildren on the road of life. Let’s be crystal clear – we need them.
There are joys in grandparenting. Some feel younger, enjoy keeping current and gain a renewed sense of purpose. Though I don’t have grandchildren full-time, I am among those who are joyful about the privilege of interacting with amazing little people in my life.
I wasn’t pining away for grandchildren. I loved the freedom of retirement: fulfilling volunteer work and traveling the world. When my daughter announced that she was expecting, I took a long pause. I’m sure I upset her when I reflected how I might have my wings clipped. I did recover in time to congratulate her. Then I took some time realize there’s more to life than personal pursuits.
A wise move by my daughter and son-in-law was to invite me into the birthing room. I became a reformed woman when I held my handsome grandson. When they had their second son, I paused again because I was in love with the first one. Cuteness won. Soon other grandchildren were born, and I determined that I was going to be a rock, my grandchildren’s solid grounding. I wanted to teach them strong values, help them feel their extended family’s embrace and ensure
that they used correct grammar.
Before I knew it, a new dimension catapulted into my life, one that was equal parts unpredictable and heartwarming. My grandchildren were racing down the hallway of my condominium to hug me when they arrived. That same hallway was cacophony shrieks of laughter when transformed into a runway for jets, a race course for matchbox cars and a batting cage. The boys are hardly delicate in their use of my space.
Inside the condo, my female grandchildren placed baby dolls to sleep in closets or in drawers. Under the dining room table is where they set up a grocery store and had snacks. The dolls were our faithful companions for tea parties, and thrilling words to hear straight from my granddaughter’s mouth to her doll were, “Remember to say, ‘May I please’?”
My grandchildren and I planted vegetable gardens, laughed at Snail delivering very slow mail to Frog at the Children’s Theater and rallied for the heroes at the many movies we saw. The game they most often chose to play was hide-and-seek. I hid with them and discovered burrows under sheets in the linen closet, behind clothes in the closet and under couch cushions. The game I enjoy is gin rummy. I taught them to play it, and it became our game. We walked to the bakery and biked to the park. I have five different-sized car seats, so we were ready for any-sized bottom as I drove them to endless practices, play dates and lessons.
We kids, young and old, invent rituals. Cracking nuts with the Christmas nutcracker and serving those nuts to our holiday guests became traditional. When my grandchildren stayed overnight, we had their favorite foods—spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, cinnamon rolls when they woke up and pancakes for breakfast. We often had cooking sessions since following recipes reinforces reading. We made iced-and-sprinkled cakes, ornate gingerbread men and blackberry cobblers. What made them swell with pride was bringing their creations home to their mothers–who worked equally hard to reinforce nutrition. Oh well! I’m the reading grandmother, not the nutrition grandmother.
My grandchildren delighted in hearing stories of their parents as children, so I heaped on the stories. I’m also the book buyer and the instigator of storytelling. We “passed the story” where one of us started a story and the other picked it up. While I worked hard to insert values in the stories, my grandchildren relentlessly undermines my efforts by inventing ways to kill the heroes.
They sometimes wrote their stories—often with their illustrations–in a “book.” If a grandchild was small, he or she dictated the story, and I printed the words. Either way, I took a picture of the author, pasted it on the last page and featured the child on their author page. The author came up with his or her own profile which could be as short as “I like dogs” or long enough to include a preference for mint ice cream.
As they grew, so did our escapades. I have taken the grandchildren on “Summer Snoop” excursions. The boys craved riding things—the city bus, monorail, light rail, double decker bus, and horseback riding. Next best for all the grandchildren was fishing, so each summer found us at a fish farm where the fish almost jumped on their hooks. As they got older, we went to car museums, the science center, art museums and on overnight outings. Each adventure etched a deeper connection between us.
I often flew to visit my grandchildren who live in other states. I went to the Christmas programs where they were lambs or shepherds, to the concerts where they attempted to play instruments like trombones and to musicals where they actually sang quite well. There were endless grandparent days, swim meets, ballet recitals and games of tennis, basketball, soccer, baseball, lacrosse, etc. Meeting them on the playing fields was one of the best ways to gain access to their time as they grow older.
The role of a grandparent involves providing a listening ear when grandchildren want to share
their thoughts, opinions, and dreams. The greatest gift we can offer is a non-judgmental heart and
an open mind. It’s my job is to listen. I’m still learning.
When my grandchildren turn 13, I take them on a trip. My oldest chose the Galapagos where we learned about evolution and respect for the environment. It was a perfect setting in which bond even more deeply. My second grandson chose Costa Rica, my third chose Washington, D.C., a
fourth selected Paris, and my granddaughter chose Alaska. I witnessed the crash course in worldviews on each excursion.
Accepting grandchildren unconditionally is the gift a grandparent can give. We enjoy them, wrap them up and send them home. Their parents get to work out the kinks.
Another gift is being the living embodiment of history. We’re the keepers of traditions, the connectors of generations, and the custodians of family narratives. I keep baby books and grandchildren’s scrapbooks for the parents who are often too busy for this task.
What I’ve learned is how significant grandparents are to their offspring once-removed. It’s a job that involves spilled snacks, endless laughter and being there for their milestones. My not-clipped wings have strengthened and broadened. As is every grandparent, I am an integral part of the upcoming departure on their own wings.
So, here’s to the grandparents – the unsung heroes who weave the threads of family together. They may not seek recognition, but they deserve every ounce of it. As they infuse our lives with laughter and love, let’s cherish them, honor them, and express our gratitude for the profound impact they have on the fabric of our lives. Make them some cookies.
Marcia McGreevy Lewis (she/her) lives in Seattle and is a retired feature writer for a Washington newspaper. She has written for literary journals, magazines, travel sites and books. Reach her on Facebook and Instagram: marcialewis25, Twitter: @McGreevyLewis and Linkedin: marcia-lewis.
