My Mother showed me how to be a grandmother by example and believe me, she was the best, but she never really talked about how much you love them.
There is really told me how much I would love them. I was born to be a grandmother.
No way to describe it to people who have not crossed into grandparenthood. It defies explanation and reason. I have two grandchildren, a boy named Ben and a girl named Molly. Both are beautiful, energetic and affectionate but nobody ever
I should have skipped over every aspect of motherhood because I don’t think I was that good at it. My son is a wonderful and talented human being. He is a great father and husband and I’m very, very proud of him. Did I mention what an awesome woman he maried? Anyway, I just wonder sometimes, how many ways did I screw him up? Not that you would notice and I might be way off base. I’m sure I suffer all of the insecurities that all mothers share. I mean how bad could I have been when he turned out so well? That could bring us to an entirely new subject of nature vs nurture but let’s not go there today.
I have found that when something happens to my grandchildren I am wounded to my core. Whether it is someone not wanting to play with them or a teacher that you are certain just has it in for them. Being a grandmother is the most wonderful thing in the world but for a while, once my son grew up, I thought I was through worrying about people not being nice, maybe not having the best clothes or a number of other things that plague you throughout motherhood. Wrong… now I worry about my son’s children. When can I catch a break? I suppose I have to die first. Why didn’t my mother tell me this?
I am thinking about my mother today because she died this day in 2000 and I wish she could have seen my babies. She would have been a spectacular great grandmother.
Love you mom.
What butter or whiskey does not cure cannot be cured.