GRANDparenting
On-the-Job Training
M
inutes after my first grandchild’s birth, I held him with nine parts wonder…and one part trepidation. From the down on his head to his impossibly tiny toenails, Kieran was perfect. It was love at first sight. But would it be mutual, I wondered. I can laugh now, but at the time the self-doubt was real.
I grew up thousands of kilometres from my own grandparents, so while I treasured our annual visits, they weren’t part of my daily life. On the other hand, my parents and in-laws were all wonderful grandparents to my own brood, so it’s not that I didn’t have good role models. But still I worried. I was young for a grandmother, inexperienced and untrained. How could I possibly live up to such a revered title? I’d felt the same irrational anxiety 10 Grand
years before when I’d held my youngest child for the first time, my first and only boy. I was a mother of daughters—four of them; I had no experience with sons. Would he see through me? Would he judge me an imposter? In the end, of course, I learned to be my son’s mother the same way I’d learned to be the mother of his sisters: one day and stage at a time, by trial and error and paying attention—the secret of any good relationship! In the almost seven years since Kieran was born I’ve been blessed with three more grandkids, and each in turn has taught me something important. As the oldest, Kieran has perhaps taught me the most. He taught me that if I get down to his level when he’s telling me something, we can see eye to eye—which in turn tells him that he has my undivided attention. He taught me that from that same level it’s easier to see the world from his perspective, and that this has its own rewards, like at the beach when we comb the sand for hermit crabs and tiny sea shells. He taught me that the more interest I show in his latest Lego creation or bicycle trick, the more he glows—and the more likely he is to show me his next masterpiece. He taught me that a child’s legs are considerably shorter than an adult’s legs, and to remember that when choosing hiking and biking routes. He taught me that even the sweetest children get tired and cranky sometimes, and that’s okay, too. From Kieran’s little sister Dahlia, I learned a new lesson: patience. Dahlia was a confirmed Mommy’s girl for the first two years of her life, highly suspicious of any other adult who showed grandmag.ca
