I promised myself that I wouldn’t be an obnoxious grandmother. I vowed that I wouldn’t be one of those women who acts as if her grandchild is the most fascinating person in the world and who just naturally assumes that everyone else wants to hear all about him. All the time. I had no intention of carrying around a few hundred snapshots of my grandson in my purse just so I could whip them out and show them to my friends, neighbors, and the poor waiter who’s trying to take my dinner order. (And just for the record, I don’t carry around snapshots of my grandson……because I don’t have to. I have tons of photos of him stored on my phone, where I can not only show them to people, I can also send them to all my acquaintances.) But one way or the other, I’ve basically failed in the “not being an obnoxious grandmother” department.
All I can say is that I meant well. But I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be to maintain any kind of objectivity when it comes to my grandson. I didn’t know that I was going to fall so completely in love with him the very first time I saw him, just as I did with my own two kids. I had no idea that I would be perfectly happy to just sit on the sofa with him when he’s sick, holding him while he sleeps because I’m afraid that if I try to put him in his crib, he’ll wake up. And sick babies need their sleep.
I didn’t realize that I was going to find just about everything he does both fascinating and endearing, and have far more patience with him than I ever had when his mother was a toddler. Even when he’s having a tantrum, like the time he got mad and threw his pacifier at me, I had to turn my head away so he wouldn’t see the smile that would only encourage bad behavior. I guarantee you I didn’t have to hide my smile when my own kids acted that way.
I don’t pretend to know why we become so obsessed with our grandchildren, but I’m beginning to think it might have something to do with both our age and the way our families change over time. Our parents have grown old or passed away, and our children have become adults and moved out of our homes to create their own lives. That’s only natural, but it does mean that our familiar family units have changed, sometimes leaving a hole in our hearts that grandchildren seem to fill perfectly. Or at least that’s my theory for now.
All I know is that despite all my good intentions, I’ve become the poster child for obnoxious grandmothers, and I may as well just own it. Because I sure as heck am enjoying it……