Grandmother is a word, like the word retirement, that I have learned to love. Neither word nor state had I given much thought to, until they happened in my own life. Though not at first, but now, they are the sweetest words and states for me!
The word grand, after all, can mean magnificent, impressive, dignified, imposing. It can mean that which inspires reverence or awe, but I fear that as a grandmother I am sometimes too meek!
Four years go this month, I became a first time grandmother. Already I wrote a blog post about my early experience of grandmothering, which turned out to be somewhat humorous, and everyone loves humor. This post will be a bit more serious.
Being a grandmother, like so many important roles in our lives, is not something that we train for, go to school for, or are educated for. We just have to "wing it." And at this point in my life, I'm not so sure that I know how to "properly" play that role.
Now in my rather limited experience with my own grandparents, I adored my Granddaddy Clark (my mother's father) and his second wife Etta. Unfortunately, Granddaddy died when I was nine. My two other sets of grandparents (My mother's parents were divorced and remarried to other people, which gave me three sets of grandparents.) were not as significant in my life as the Clark set.
The Mundricks (my mother's mother and her second husband Wassil) lived in the large city of Elizabeth, New Jersey, and we usually traveled north to see them once a year. Though Wassil was a jolly enough person, my Grandmother Mundrick was somewhat taciturn. She would sometimes take me into New York City though to shop and to see the Rockettes! Wassil would occasionally take me and my sister Lynda to movie matinee double features. Once we saw a horror movie that so scared me, I woke up in a cold sweat that night and had nightmares for years to come and still well remember the movie--entitled The Shrinking Man.
Living in the small country town of Bowman, South Carolina, the Drawdys (my father's parents) had nine children and dozens of grandchildren, and we usually saw them only once a year, too. My father's father, Papa, was rather quiet. With so many grandchildren, I certainly didn't feel particularly special. It seemed to me that Mama Drawdy seemed to favor an older male cousin of mine, as she appeared to favor her five sons. But I loved to visit their old farm as a child and run "my heedless ways" among the animals and fruit trees and sleep in the high old beds covered with heavy piles of quilts and blankets. After frolicking on the farm all day,water would be heated up on the kitchen wood stove for me to bathe in an old metal tub. Afraid of the outhouse at night, I hated to have "to go" in the middle of the night, and of course, would wake my mother up to go with me. As I recall, my small family of four slept in two double beds in the large middle bedroom of the large old farmhouse.
It was the Clarks that I got to stay with in the summer for a week in Columbia, South Carolina, and who made me feel particularly loved. I have already written a post about them entitled "Someone to love me."
So with Granddaddy Clark in mind, I thought to myself, all I have to do to be a good grandmother is to just love my granddaughter. And trust me, I do! But what does love look like, feel like? I went about being completely indulgent of her. When she was here, I was "on call" for little Tessa. It was Tessa-time the whole time that she visited me. I played with her, fixed her favorite foods, bought her lots of things, etc. Need I say it, I "spoiled" her. I had often been told that I could do just that, and then give her back to her parents for disciplining!
But that's not working out so well for me. A big difference between my being a grandparent and my own grandparents is that as opposed to once a year, I am fortunate that my granddaughter gets to visit me once a week for 24 hours or more at a time. And oh the difference that is! For her first two years, my being so compliant with Tessa was all right. But here we are four years, over 200 visits, and a new granddaughter later, and I'm thinking maybe I've been too indulgent with her. Now that she is nearly 4, going on 14, I feel as if I need to discipline her more, and it feels uncomfortable to me, yet necessary.
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Let me give you a few examples of my concern. Last week on her visit, she told me that my house was her house, not mine! And the way she tears through it as if she owns it, one would think that that were true. I have been in the bad habit of not making her pick things up after she has played with them. So when she leaves after a couple days at my house, well, you can imagine the clutter!
Later that evening as she was brushing her teeth before bed, I noticed that she was not brushing her top molars and reminded her to do so. She told me that this is how her daddy had taught her to brush her teeth and that it was the right way. She often tells me that she is right and that I am wrong about such things!
The next day Tessa argued with me about the order of the days of the week; she told me that Monday came after Saturday. Then she proceeded to sing a little ditty about the days of the week, and sure enough, she had memorized it wrong, "Saturday, Monday, Sunday." But she once again insisted that I am wrong and that she was right.
Probably one mistake that I am making is taking all of this too personally. Nevertheless, I feel as if I have been a "push-over" as a grandmother, and I want my granddaughter(s) to respect me. So the fact remains that I'm gonna have to be a bit tougher as a grandmother. Even if it is not my usual MO, even if change can be challenging, even if it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and even if it comes as a shock to Tessa's little system, I must earn her 4-year-old respect! After all, I want to be one of those awe-inspiring grandmothers! Please wish me luck!
The word grand, after all, can mean magnificent, impressive, dignified, imposing. It can mean that which inspires reverence or awe, but I fear that as a grandmother I am sometimes too meek!
Four years go this month, I became a first time grandmother. Already I wrote a blog post about my early experience of grandmothering, which turned out to be somewhat humorous, and everyone loves humor. This post will be a bit more serious.
Being a grandmother, like so many important roles in our lives, is not something that we train for, go to school for, or are educated for. We just have to "wing it." And at this point in my life, I'm not so sure that I know how to "properly" play that role.
Now in my rather limited experience with my own grandparents, I adored my Granddaddy Clark (my mother's father) and his second wife Etta. Unfortunately, Granddaddy died when I was nine. My two other sets of grandparents (My mother's parents were divorced and remarried to other people, which gave me three sets of grandparents.) were not as significant in my life as the Clark set.
The Mundricks (my mother's mother and her second husband Wassil) lived in the large city of Elizabeth, New Jersey, and we usually traveled north to see them once a year. Though Wassil was a jolly enough person, my Grandmother Mundrick was somewhat taciturn. She would sometimes take me into New York City though to shop and to see the Rockettes! Wassil would occasionally take me and my sister Lynda to movie matinee double features. Once we saw a horror movie that so scared me, I woke up in a cold sweat that night and had nightmares for years to come and still well remember the movie--entitled The Shrinking Man.
Living in the small country town of Bowman, South Carolina, the Drawdys (my father's parents) had nine children and dozens of grandchildren, and we usually saw them only once a year, too. My father's father, Papa, was rather quiet. With so many grandchildren, I certainly didn't feel particularly special. It seemed to me that Mama Drawdy seemed to favor an older male cousin of mine, as she appeared to favor her five sons. But I loved to visit their old farm as a child and run "my heedless ways" among the animals and fruit trees and sleep in the high old beds covered with heavy piles of quilts and blankets. After frolicking on the farm all day,water would be heated up on the kitchen wood stove for me to bathe in an old metal tub. Afraid of the outhouse at night, I hated to have "to go" in the middle of the night, and of course, would wake my mother up to go with me. As I recall, my small family of four slept in two double beds in the large middle bedroom of the large old farmhouse.
It was the Clarks that I got to stay with in the summer for a week in Columbia, South Carolina, and who made me feel particularly loved. I have already written a post about them entitled "Someone to love me."
So with Granddaddy Clark in mind, I thought to myself, all I have to do to be a good grandmother is to just love my granddaughter. And trust me, I do! But what does love look like, feel like? I went about being completely indulgent of her. When she was here, I was "on call" for little Tessa. It was Tessa-time the whole time that she visited me. I played with her, fixed her favorite foods, bought her lots of things, etc. Need I say it, I "spoiled" her. I had often been told that I could do just that, and then give her back to her parents for disciplining!
But that's not working out so well for me. A big difference between my being a grandparent and my own grandparents is that as opposed to once a year, I am fortunate that my granddaughter gets to visit me once a week for 24 hours or more at a time. And oh the difference that is! For her first two years, my being so compliant with Tessa was all right. But here we are four years, over 200 visits, and a new granddaughter later, and I'm thinking maybe I've been too indulgent with her. Now that she is nearly 4, going on 14, I feel as if I need to discipline her more, and it feels uncomfortable to me, yet necessary.
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| You can easily see from this picture and the next one how adorable and hard-to-resist Tessa is! |
Later that evening as she was brushing her teeth before bed, I noticed that she was not brushing her top molars and reminded her to do so. She told me that this is how her daddy had taught her to brush her teeth and that it was the right way. She often tells me that she is right and that I am wrong about such things!
The next day Tessa argued with me about the order of the days of the week; she told me that Monday came after Saturday. Then she proceeded to sing a little ditty about the days of the week, and sure enough, she had memorized it wrong, "Saturday, Monday, Sunday." But she once again insisted that I am wrong and that she was right.
Probably one mistake that I am making is taking all of this too personally. Nevertheless, I feel as if I have been a "push-over" as a grandmother, and I want my granddaughter(s) to respect me. So the fact remains that I'm gonna have to be a bit tougher as a grandmother. Even if it is not my usual MO, even if change can be challenging, even if it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks, and even if it comes as a shock to Tessa's little system, I must earn her 4-year-old respect! After all, I want to be one of those awe-inspiring grandmothers! Please wish me luck!
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| Here are my daughter Ellen and I and her two daughters, my granddaughters Livvy Lara and Tessa Jean about four months ago. |
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