Quirks and Families

I said I was the mother of six and the grandmother of 17. I don't know why I haven't said anything about that yet. These people are without doubt the most important part of my life. I said I was going to blog about my efforts not to get old, my masters' degree, my exercise program, etc. I lied. That would require me to talk about myself and that's not very interesting, even to myself. My children and grandchildren now, that's interesting. At least it is to me. Once when my kids were still at home, I was telling my dad what each of my kids were doing at the time. His response was very 'Allen Wilcox-ish' and quite clear. "Other people aren't as impressed with your children as you are, you know." I knew that was right without his saying it. My response was, "If their mother isn't impressed with them, what chance do they have?" He had to agree. I didn't add as I would have liked to, "I assumed that their own grandfather would be impressed with them too."

I am impressed with my grandchildren. All 17 of them. Some of their parents think I am not, but they are wrong. I have one grand-son, in grade two, who performs at grade six level academically; his reading level is probably grade eight. I have a granddaughter who just made her B times in swimming. This impresses me, not because that shows she is a faster swimmer, but because she is willing to work hard to make this happen. I have a granddaughter who is a natural at drama and knows just how much to play the part, not too little and not too much; she is a joy to watch. I have one who just can't stop dancing. I have a grandson who know things about science that most adults don't know and he's only six; he wants to know everything. I have a little grandson who can swim, over-arm recovery, and is learning to dive. He won't be three for another six weeks. Do I need to go on? I could. All of these things impress me. I am also impressed with their parents who are enabling these amazing accomplishments. I find all of these kids and their quirkiness very interesting.

My job as a grandmother is, as I see it, to be impressed with my grandchildren and to love them. I'm so glad I don't have to worry about their behaviour, it's not my job. So unless I think their behaviour is so bad that it is likely to interfere with their success, or if I think bad behaviour is deliberate, I don't worry about it. I worry a lot less than their parents do. Funny how having your own children grow up successfully and become responsible, caring, successful adults raises your expections that your grandchildren will just naturally do the same. Mostly the kids behave better for me than they do for their parents anyway.

Kids will be kids and they will have tantrums and melt-downs. If I talk about these it is because I find them interesting. They wouldn't be kids if they didn't. I don't care about them. I can see a child having a tantrum and only say to him/her/it, "You'll get a headache if you keep screaming like that." I did once to one of my grand-daughters at age two. She stopped screaming and said, "Don't talk about it." Maybe she could see I didn't really care. Not much mileage in that. I don't have to 'deal' with it, stop it, or cure the child. It's not my problem, and my perspective makes it look quite temporary. It's great to be a Nana.

However, I have recently learned that there are a couple of exceptions:
1. I do expect respect. There have to be some perks to being a grandmother and this is one. I know it may be unrealistic in this age where disrespect looks like the norm and may even be considered cool. Nevertheless. . . I believe that respect has to come before love and if it doesn't, there can be no love. I love my little kids, but because of this expectation, it is likely that they won't all end up loving me. My expectation that aging mothers/grandmothers deserve respect may make me seem like a grinch sometimes, but only to the disrespectful but disrespect does not foster love, so it is very unlikely that they would love me anyway. I can say right now that my grand-children are generally pretty good and they seem happy to do the few things I ask and are respectful about it. Maybe that's because most of my children, their parents, insist on this, and threaten their kids with what will happen if they cause me a problem. They think it is a matter of respect and so do I. "If you ever want to go to Nana's house again, you better not. . . ." It's quite funny to hear since I remember saying similar things to my children. But then my mother had a heart condition, and my father thought that children should be seen and not heard. He even scared me. That's probably why I said it.

2. I have serious issues about my personal space. I am just now putting that together and I am 61. It is one of my quirks. I recently found out that one of my older grand-daughters is the same. Her dad likes to tease her by touching her hair and face. It drives her wild. Like me. My mother used to let her grand-children comb her hair. Aaarrrrrggghhhhhh! I can't stand it. Give me a hug, tell me what's going on in your life, but don't ask to comb my hair; don't put your adorable face two inches from mine; don't make random noise in my ear. I am liable to freak out and scare you. When Carmen was a toddler, she liked to have a nap with me. Her version was to sleep with both little arms wrapped around my neck - nose to nose. I made myself lie there, still, because I recognized that her need for closeness meant love. When I was sure that she was asleep, I peeled her off. Once at a Kinsmen event, a guy running for some grand-poobaa position was campaigning by kissing the women. He came toward me practically puckered. It made me so mad! Without even thinking I put my hands in the middle of his chest and shoved. In a steely voice, I told him, "I only kiss my husband!" A friend of Jim's sitting nearby started to laugh. "What's so funny?" I said staring at him coldly. I guess he thought he might get the next shove: he threw up his hands and said, "Nothing, nothing, I agree with you." Imagine some stranger thinking he could get into my personal space like that without permission. Yuck! I can cuddle babies and and kiss their heads. I like to give hugs to my pre-teens. But even the kids I love better have my permission to get too close. Is that quirky or not?

One of my children, one of my in-laws, and a couple of the grandchildren don't like noise and crowds very much. Being an introvert, I'm a bit like that myself. A couple of my grandsons don't like food, at least a lot of the food the rest of us eat. (I would be better off if I were like that. ) Lots of us hate confrontation, some more than others. Quirks. We all have them. We are all trying to do better. Part of being a member of a family means being tolerant, compassionate, and patient about quirks, cutting slack. At least I hope so.