The grandma in a box

This post was named People's Choice in the humor category in the 2013 BlogHer Voices of the Year.

A STORY:

Once upon a time there was a woman.

Who had a husband.

And three daughters.

Plus one house, two cats, two dogs, and an addiction to collecting books and pictures of people she loved.

And she had a writing job that had nothing—yet everything—to do with all of the above that she loved.

She liked rock music, independent films, and playing games with her friends—which was usually paired with a wee bit of drinking, too, whiskey or beer but never, ever umbrella drinks of any sort.

The woman also liked learning new things, especially when it came to computers, cameras, cooking and cantatas.

(She also really liked alliteration, so cantatas worked far better in that sentence than piano.)

The woman loved her mom, her dad, her brothers and sisters. She loved Jesus and America, too—as well as stories and songs that turned her heart inside out.

The woman liked the things most women do. No matter what their age.

Eventually the woman’s daughters grew up and flew away. One got married and had two sons.

Which made the woman a grandma. Yet another thing she loved.

So the woman added to her writing job, writing about those grandsons. Writing about them online—along with lots of other things she'd write about—on a blog.

Which was confusing to some.

It wasn't the writing on the blog that confused some, it was the being a grandma. Grandmas are old and know nothing about being online. Or anything interesting at all, for that matter. Grandmas rock in rocking chairs, they hug and kiss their grandkids, they pull up their gray hair into buns. Maybe they crochet. But that's pretty much it.

At least that's what it seemed some non-grandma bloggers thought of grandma bloggers. They’re only grandmas. They’re old. They’re boring. And they’re invisible if there's the G-word in their name, the G-word in their game.

Once a grandma,only a grandma, they thought.

Some unenlightened brands, bloggy networks, and PR folks seemed to think the same thing, too.

If they even thought of grandmas at all.

Other grandmas understood. Other grandma bloggers really understood—even those who didn’t write specifically about their grandchildren, about being a grandma.

The other grandmas understood because all of the grandmas, online and off, were put in the very same box. Were trying to get out of the same box. Together were saying, HEY, you meanies who squished us up into this uncomfortable GRANDMA box: We want out! We love our grandkids way beyond words, but they’re not all we love. Can’t you see we are so much more than grandmas? Can’t you see we are all that we were before? Can't you see that we are now all that AND a bag of potato chips, er, grandmas!

But the non-grandmas didn’t see any of that. They didn't see the woman and her fellow grandmas pounding on the box. All they saw was the word GRANDMA. And the box.

If they saw anything at all.

Every once in a while, someone did see something at all. Mostly it was just the word GRANDMA, though, and they thought the boxed-up grandmas would be happy as clams to talk about canes and assisted living centers and denture cream and gadgets that help them when they’ve fallen and can’t get up.

Those non-grandmas didn’t realize grandmas can and do get up. On their own. And they get down, too. That they're still vibrant and relevant. That they still love music. Still have jobs that have nothing to do with being a grandma, yet love the job of being a grandma, too. They still have spouses and daughters and sons and parents and brothers and sisters and animals and friends and interests.

And that they do all the very same things they did before they became grandmas.

They even—gasp!—still have S-E-X.

And they still talk about and write about things that matter, with people and for people who matter.

So that woman who was now a grandma but still had a husband and three daughters and still really loved all sorts of things non-grandmas think grandmas shouldn't or couldn't like decided to write about being stuck in the GRANDMA box.

In hopes others might see her and her grandma friends in there and let them out.

Or…perhaps they might do nothing at all.

But at least that grandma who loves, loves, loves being a grandma yet is so much more than a grandma would have her say.

Then she ended her plea for release from the GRANDMA box with an oh-so cute photo of her grandsons. Simply because she could.

And to further confuse those non-grandmas who Just. Don't. Get. It. 

THE END

Today's question:

Anyone second that emotion?

Once upon an unstable grandma

Based on a long-ago experience and a memory forever ingrained in my mind, I for many years felt sorry for a childhood friend because of her grandma's instability and erratic behavior. It's only since becoming a grandma myself that I've realized that particular grandmother was not only stable as stable can be, but that I've acted just like her on occasion.

I lived in Minnesota and was in second or third grade at the time of the incident. On one particular bus ride from my school in town back to the farming community in which my family and several others lived, I was filled with excitement and anticipation. On this particular day I wouldn't be getting off the bus at my house with my siblings because I had the grand privilege of disembarking a few stops from my own for an afternoon of fun at my friend Lynn's house for the very first time.

Lynn, my beautiful friend with long, straight, brunette hair—which she always wore high up on her head in the most marvelous of buns or braids or "high ponytails" I could never manage to make stay put on my own head—had full reign of her house as an only child. And it was her live-in grandma who cared for her each afternoon. Such a very different scenario from my own house, where I was third oldest in a line of seven kids, and my oldest brother and sister ruled the roost each afternoon until Mom and Dad got home from business in town.

Lynn and I chattered excitedly and held hands throughout the lengthy bus ride. When we got off at her stop, we raced down the dirt drive to her house and dashed right through the front door and into the kitchen. Which was empty. And quiet. I found the bare room and the silence unnerving, but Lynn simply smiled and called out for her grandmother. After a few moments and no response, Lynn started tiptoeing from room to room, calling "Grandma." No answer. Not in the living room, the hallway, the bathroom. Not upstairs or down.

Lynn seemed unfazed. I, though, was certain her grandmother had fallen somewhere and was hurt or had been gagged, bound and locked away in the attic by a dastardly drifter who'd entered Lynn's home with murder on his mind. Or worse, I feared the ghosts my older sister swore haunted the fields of the farms had spirited Lynn's poor grandma away.

Of course I didn't share such horrific thoughts with my friend. I didn't want to scare her.

Lynn, still smiling, nonchalantly led me to her bedroom to—unbelievably in the midst of such circumstances—engage in our pre-planned afternoon play. But suddenly, as we were nearly to Lynn's room, a closet door flew wide open and banged against the wall. Then her grandmother, dressed in a full grandma housecoat as grandmas really once wore, jumped out in front of us and shrieked, "Boo! I gotcha!"

Scared. The. <cuss>. Out. Of. Me.

Lynn, though, just giggled at Grandma's antics and gave her a hug. She introduced me to the manic woman, answered the questions that followed regarding our school day, then went on her merry way arranging dolls and toys for us to play with until it was time for me to head home.

I no longer wanted to stay. I no longer wanted to play. I no longer envied Lynn and her single-child status. Her grandma was nuts. She had to be, as grandmas just don't act like that. At least not any grandmas I knew.

My grandmas were normal. They loved me, I have no doubt, as they they hugged me and smiled each time I saw them. Then they'd settle into conversation with Mom or Dad or other nearby adults, all while I admired them from afar. They didn't converse directly with me. Or read books with me. Or cook with me. Or play games with me. And they most definitely didn't hide from me, after school or otherwise, and come shrieking out of hall closets scaring the bejeezus out of my friends.

They were as normal and good as grandmas come.

Or so I thought.

Now that I'm a grandma, though, what I thought was normal and good when it comes to grandmas has changed significantly. What I, as a grandma, think grandmas should be is nothing like what my normal grandmas were.

Seems I lean a little more toward favoring the unstable sort of grandmothering.

Now that I'm a grandma, I have hidden from Bubby many a time. It's all prearranged and part of giggle-filled games of hide-and-seek, of course (he is not yet even four years old). But hiding from one another is one of our favorite things to do. We also have dedicated discussions that don't include Mom or Dad. We read together. We cook together. We play games together. And we laugh like <cuss> together—something I don't remember ever doing with my own grandmothers.

It's in seeing the grandma gig from the grandma perspective that I finally—after literally decades of wondering why social services or other family members didn't step in to save my friend—realized that Lynn's grandma wasn't unstable at all. She was just a very different kind of grandma than my grandmas.

My grandmas were elders loved and respected from afar, while Lynn's grandma was an up-close and personal kind of grandma. A fun kind of grandma. She obviously was a responsible grandmother who cared daily for her grandchild, but she also did fun things, silly things, things my grandmas would never ever have done.

Lynn's grandma was the kind of grandma I've caught myself being sometimes.

Unstable or not, she's the kind of grandma I want to be all times.

Today's question:

What kind of grandmas were your grandmothers?

What grandmas really want

Last week I wrote about what every grandma needs for stocking her home to be adequately prepared when having grandchildren about the place. This post is along the same lines, only it's not what grandmothers want for nurturing their grandkids, it's what grandmas want for themselves—from their grandchildren, from the parents of those grandchildren. 

• Pictures. Regularly. Even text-messaged photos will do. Of course, occasional nice shots appreciated, too, ones suitable for framing.

• Dedicated communication with the grandchildren by phone, Skype, text, email, snail mail.

• Regular updates on health and daily doings. It's not being nosy—it's called caring.

• More updates! Clothing size updates. Interest and infatuation updates. Gift idea updates. Grandmas are always on the lookout for things to give and share with and introduce to their grandchildren.

• "Thank you"s for gifts given, acknowledgement of packages received.

• Realization that Grandma can't read minds. If you want her to do or say or be something, you need to ask her. If you want her to back off, you need to tell her.

• Permission to make unhealthy—but oh-so yummy—food for the little ones. At least occasionally.

• Hugs

• Appreciation for the fact Grandma does indeed have a life and job outside of grandparenting.

• Consideration and kindness when Grandma says "no" to a request from Mom or Dad.

• Meaningful duties to perform when asking, "Is there anything I can do?"

• Understanding of the love grandmas have for their animals even when grandchildren are visiting.

• Invitations to school activities, sporting functions, special gatherings. Even when it's assumed and understood Grandma won't make it to the event.

• Permission to break rules now and then. And understanding if/when Grandma occasionally lives by the motto "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission."

• Understanding when Grandma is jealous of the other grandma(s) in her grandchild's life.

• Original artwork for her refrigerator door and desktop.

• That use be made of the gifts Grandma gives—or at least exchange them for something that will be used.

• Respect and consideration, including when it comes to not all grandmas wanting typical grandma gear such as T-shirts, sweatshirts, and bumper stickers obnoxiously emblazoned with "Best Grandma Ever!"

• Occasional appreciation—possibly even public recognition—for her wisdom and assistance. Unadulterated flattery does wonders for a grandma's ego.

• To see their children succeed at parenting.

• To know their grandchildren—and their children—will overcome inevitable challenges and lead meaningful, contented lives filled with inspiration, enthusiasm, and love.

Today's question:

What else do you grandmas want? What else do you non-grandmas like to give?

5 reasons why grandkids love Grandma

Today I'm pleased to share with you a guest post highlighting a point of view from the other side of grandmotherhood.

Guest post by Sara Dawkins, written especially for Grandma's Briefs readers

As a grandchild and great grandchild, I have been blessed to know my grandma and two great-grandmothers on a deeper level than most. As a grandmother you may think that we grandchildren love you for your never-ending candy supply and your gift-giving ability, but believe it or not there is more. When I was younger there were a handful of things that kept me loving my grandmother, and as an older grandchild I whole-heartedly still adore the following things:

Your smell: This may seem weird at first sight (or scent) but you have a smell. Whether it is the same perfume that grandfather has been giving to you on your birthday for the past the twenty-eight years or your Dial hand soap, we love it. It is amazing how much scent can stir up memories and feelings. Stick to what you are doing and don’t change!

Holidays: The colors, the music, the smells, the laughter, the cookies, and the food! Spending the holidays with grandmother is like living in a movie. Every December, grandchildren get excited and giggly at the thought of spending time with you in your kitchen or eating at the family table.

Your hugs: There is something different about a grandmother’s hug. Your hug seems softer but stronger, warm and safe. A grandmother’s hug is usually paired with a quick swaying movement and followed with some sort of adoration for us. Never underestimate the power of a grandmother’s hug.

Your jewelry: Oh my! As I child I could spend hours rifling through Grandma’s jewelry box. A granddaughter trying on her grandmother’s jewelry for the first time is the moment when a little girl realizes she wants to grow up and be a grandmother with tons of necklaces and bracelets. Playing dress up is a must!

Your kitchen: Grandmothers are the masters of their kitchens. Watching grandma gracefully hurry from the stove to the fridge and back is almost an art form. Not to mention the finished products you whip up in no time. King Ranch Chicken. My grandmother would stomp her foot if she knew that was my favorite dish she cooked. Cooking side by side with your grandmother is one of the most memorable moments of any child’s life.

So as a professional grandchild, I would like to say this: Grandmothers, we love and adore you as much as you love and adore us. Keep that cookie jar full and those arms open.

Author Bio
Sara is an active nanny as well as an active freelance writer. She is a frequent contributor of a nanny agency. Learn more about her here.

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Today's question:

Why did/do you love your grandma(s)?