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WHY WATCH TV WHEN WE CAN TALK?
BlogHer (blogher.com), a three-year-old organization dedicated to "creating opportunities for women who blog to pursue exposure, education, community and economic empowerment," hosts a series of frequent national conferences (there's one this month, July 18-20, in San Francisco; the next one is October 13 in Washington, D.C.). BlogHer estimates that there are more than 15 million women in the U.S. who are bloggers (and there are at least that worldwide, many of whom are blogging or commenting in English) and another 15 million who are participants (regular commenters) on blogs. The overwhelmingly popular theme? Family.
Overwhelmingly popular with us? The rapidly increasing community of Grand Bloggers, mostly women (but not all!) who share with grace and candor both the joys and the frustrations of the leadership generation. Below, a few of our favorites (and we welcome yours-it takes a while to read 15 million blogs! Just send the link to your choice of blogging grandparent to editor@grandmagazine.com and we'll check it out).
Grandma Henke
My grandchildren don't have the freedoms...I did. The freedom of not being afraid of strangers, the freedom of walking around town, the freedom of not being exposed to pornography, the freedom of safety at school...
-Edna Henke, http://grandmahenke.com/grandma
Matriarch-Feminist Grandmother
Of course, loving [the baby] Michael is the simple part of grandmothering. Learning for the first time to mother [my daughter] Anne, the new mother, is far more complex. We are both strong, opinionated women who have frequently disagreed over the last 34 years. It seems miraculous how well we are doing now. To my great joy, Anne is mothering Michael essentially the way I mothered my two younger daughters, when I was confident enough to honor my heart and my instincts and not let experts persuade me to impose unrealistic expectations on the baby...
-Mary Joan Graves, http://matriarch17.blogspot.com/search/label/Grandma
Grandparents Raising Grandchildren
A few days before [my granddaughter's accident] I had a dream.... The dream started with me screaming at her to get back to me because she was not being safe. Once she was safely back to me, we had a strange type of journey that we took together, just the two of us. In the dream, I only wore army fatigues. In the dream as we journeyed to uncertain places, I knew that her needs would be met by strangers along our path. [Just] before her accident, I told my husband that I [felt] something bad was about to happen. I did not know if it was going to be in a few days or a few months, but something bad would occur.... after her injury, the dream made total sense. The dream brought intrigue and also a sense of peace, since the essence of the dream was that even though the journey was uncertain, it was not frightening and the most important part was that it was very clear in the dream that my child's needs would be met along the way.
-Karen Best Wright, http://grandparenting.typepad.com
Liam's Grandma
Grammy is on a rampage right now, and that means that she is cleaning and trying to keep her mouth shut. Thank the good Lord for church, which we attended this morning, and it was so inspiring. Liam was a good boy during the service and slept during much of it. After that, I told [my daughter] Catherine that we would go to Bob Evans for breakfast. En route, she said she wanted to go to Big Boy. I said, "We're going to Bob Evans." Then she said she wanted to go to Panera Bread. I said, "We're going to Bob Evans." We got to the traffic light and I hadn't realized that Bob Evans is now gone, replaced by a fondue restaurant. "I guess we're going to Big Boy," she said with a smirk. I gritted my teeth, held on to the wheel and turned into Big Boy.
We had a lovely breakfast together; we laughed, shared digs at each other and conversed nonstop. On the way home, however, things changed and Catherine started talking about her life and how she wants to get an apartment or better yet, buy a house. I carefully told her that the first thing she should be excited about is saving for a car and to get her license back (unpaid tickets caused her to lose her license). This escalated to her statement that her friend's mom said, "I feel so bad for Catherine." I asked what that meant, and Catherine said that everything she's going through, raising a child all by herself with no help. Swallowing hard, I reminded her that while the route she has chosen to conceive a child and then raise him is not the conventional method, she has help, to which she replied, "Not much." I gritted my teeth and held on to the steering wheel for dear life.
Arriving home, Catherine continued that she doesn't ask us for anything and that she never asks us to baby-sit, etc. I again calmly reminded her that we baby-sit regularly when she needs to shower, run next door to visit, eat, or go to work for five hours in the evening. I have changed my fair share of diapers, have burped, rocked, fed, sung and acted like a court jester to keep the little man happy when he fusses-and he is a fussy little guy. And, we provide a roof over their heads, food, in-house washer and dryer, cable TV and lots and lots of patience without asking for anything in return. She said it's not the same as having a husband. I sighed, brought Liam into the house and, so I wouldn't say anything more that might change the "nice Sunday" we were having, I went to my room and slammed the door.
I took three deep breaths, petted my cat for a few minutes and commenced my cleaning spree.
I attacked the floors, the garage, the dishes, laundry, updated our checkbook in Quicken, and took a coffee break to write all this down.
A little later, I'll prepare dinner and then will declare myself off-duty. I will take myself out onto the patio, wrapped in a blanket, where, hopefully, the stars will shine and I can lean my head back and gaze and wonder at everything there is, was and will be.
-Sue Finley, http://liamsgrandma.typepad.com
*
Slouching Toward Past 40
Written by a mom.... Sometimes, it's good to hear the other side of the story. Especially when it's not someone in our family telling it!
"Four toys?" she suggests.
"One," I sigh.
"Two?" she bargains.
"Two," I echo lamely; I've lost, and I know it.
She buys four anyway. And when she presents them to my children, I eye her disapprovingly. In response, she shrugs. Contained in the shrug is this: I am their GRANDMOTHER, hear me roar.
*
When Ben is 2, she buys him a fire truck. It is two feet long and has a remote control, which, among other things, enables the ladder to extend to a height of 18 or so inches and then retract. The ladder pivots in all directions.
The fire truck is for children 8 and up. I put it away, on a high shelf in the closet, where Ben won't see it.
*
We are in Target with Ben and Jack's grandfather. He says, "You know, I'd like to buy each of the boys a Nintendo DS." He is within earshot of his grandsons, and, clever man, he knows it.
Grandpa gets his wish.
*
They are a force of nature, grandparents. They have the upper hand, because they are still and always our parents. No matter that when we were young, what we heard most from them was "No," or, worse, "Absolutely not."
Lately my mother's been trying a new tactic. She buys the boys books. When I attempt to corral her largesse, she shoots me a withering look and proclaims, "A child can never have too many books."
Game, set, match.
What wily creatures all of these grandmas and grandpas turn out to be!
-Sarah Piazza, www.slouchingmom.com
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