I am ready to be a grandmother.
Let me rephrase, I am ready to have the patience of a grandmother. From my point of view, grandmothers are able to play Candyland over and over and over, without getting flustered when the kids fuss over who gets to go first. Grandmothers do not worry about playdoh getting on the kitchen floor, or even on the carpet. Grandmothers do not cringe at the seventeenth time a child asks for a snack without saying please. Grandmothers marvel at every drawing, lego creation, and dress up ensemble. Grandmothers will do the same puzzle four times in a row.
Grandmothers have earned the right to be dazzled by their grandchildren, and leave the correction, the tedious tasks, and well, the parenting to the parents. Grandparents have raised their children. They have dealt with tears when their daughter did not get invited to a certain birthday party, they have scolded their son for not saying excuse me after a belch, they have suffered and survived potty training and the accidents that occur with potty training, they have carpooled and transported children hundreds of miles without the safety-seats we have today, and they have washed countless loads of laundry. Grandmothers have paid their dues, and are deserving of the special times with grandkids, and are deserving of the fun stuff.
As a mom, I am also dazzled by my children, am dazzled and blessed by them every day. But, I am not always so patient as a grandmother can be. I worry about cleaning up all of the bright-colored, miniscule blobs of playdoh from the carpet. I do not always cheerfully remind my children to rephrase their requests in a less demanding way and use the word please. When playing Candyland for the third time, my thoughts wonder to what I need to be doing to get dinner ready, bills that need to be paid, or if I have five minutes to jump on Facebook.
I like to think that when grandmothers were mothers of young children, they too, lost their patience when brothers and sisters fought over sitting in the same chair, that they got a little harried when a full can of fish food was dumped into the fishbowl that contained one fish, and that they raised their voices when declaring, yet again, it was past time to stop running in the kitchen. Thinking this makes me feel better when I am troubled that I was not at my best, that I once again, became frazzled during some dramatic whining.
Grandmothers have earned their badges of honor, and survived the ups and downs of mothering… and just shy of 10years into this mothering adventure, I realize I still have many more days to earn the patience of a grandmother. And, I am OK with that, as long as I get my five minutes on Facebook, and I can get through the playdoh stage relatively unscathed — and my carpet.