On Being A Grandmother

Grandmothering. It's a big deal. (If you are new here, that's how this blog started.) At times, it can be intense. When I arrive at their house, the little ones run to the door and I'm smothered with hugs and kisses. I love it. I don't think anyone else adores me like the young grandchildren. Lots of people love me. But these little girls love me and adore me.

Within 93 seconds of my arrival, Baby Girl lifts up a book and says, "Read to me, Mimi." And of course, I do. She and I fit nicely, side by side, in the leather wing chair. She sits tucked under my right arm. She snuggles up against me and we fit together like two matching puzzle pieces, And I read Iggy Peck Architect. And I read it again. And read it again. Thankfully, this book was fun to read. Some are not. I love reading aloud. I've said if I could earn a living doing that, it would be my dream job.

This adoration thing sometimes runs amuck. Little Sister hangs on the side of the chair and gently pokes her finger in my upper arm. "Mimi. Your arm feels kind of weird." I have on a sleeveless top. She pokes me a few more times and tells me, "Your arm is...pushy." I know what she means. She really means squishy. Or maybe even flabby. But "flabby" is not in her vocabulary yet.

This up-close inspection is part of the process. On previous visits, I've heard about the lines that go from my nose to my mouth that "go away when you smile." This visit Baby Girl checks my toes and toenail polish carefully. (The rule at their house—to reduce allergens—is "shoes off when you come inside.") "Mimi, this toenail looks funny," I'm happy it's only one of them.

At bedtime, I have mastered putting on my pajamas while never showing more than an inch of skin, because I typically have an audience, These little girls are anxious for their bedtime story. (Maybe they're afraid if I shoo them out and close the door, I won't let them back in?)  But that inch of skin happens to be at the eye level of a 4 year old. "Mimi, your tummy is all crinkly. Why? Mine doesn't look like that." Well, a half century ago, mine didn't look like that either.

Still. I'm okay with my jiggly arms and my lined face and crinkly tummy because it means I'm old enough to have grandchildren. And grandchildren outweigh everything else that comes with advancing years. It makes me work a little harder to stay healthy. I don't want to miss anything.

If I weren't spending time with the littles, I'd miss the preschool wisdom that is shared in the back seat of the car. With Jessica's wedding coming up in a couple of weeks, we've all talked a lot about getting married. The two little ones have also talked about weddings and marriage. Four year old Baby Girl told her sister last week, "You know, once you get married, you're permanently a grownup." Let's hope she's right.

And I'd miss hearing Little Sister read to me. She picked a book of Bible stories for children that happens to be a favorite of her little sister. She read to us quite proficiently, only stopping when she came to a big word she didn't know. No problem...because her little sister quickly filled in the missing word. Baby Girl has the whole book memorized.

Even though Baby Girl has heard the Bible stories many times, she still has questions. Like when we read about Noah's ark coming to rest on a mountain top after the flood, "Mimi, who made that mountain?" "God makes mountains. And he makes all the animals," I answer. And she adds, "And cows and horses make fertilizer." Yes. Yes, they do.

These times are precious. And they are fleeting. I am fully aware that my super-grandmother status is not permanent. As these little girls grow and their world expands and they venture forth, my role will shrink. And that's as it should be. I do wonder sometimes if they will remember the special times we've had together. I'm 100% sure I will.