Grandparents

My daughter Allison is having a baby in a couple of weeks, and she’s trying to take care of the last-minute details before the little one enters the world.

One of the items on her to-do list included a text message to all the parents announcing the grandparent names we have chosen for ourselves.

I looked at the list and was floored that this baby is going to have 7 grandparents!

What a lucky kid! That’s a whole lot of love for this baby of theirs, not to mention for all 7 of us chomping at the bit to experience the joy that she will bring. It’s amazing that one little baby can make so many people so happy, just by being born.

This bounty of grandparents is the direct result of the unfortunate divorces in each of the new parents’ families. Talk about something so sad giving way to such delight.  

    

My own kids hit the jackpot with their 4 doting grandparents, each bond unique and creating cherished memories. Now sadly they have just 1 grandparent, PopPop. The humor and affection he so freely gives has been extended to the next generation, as he’s recently been promoted to Great Granddad, a badge he wears with pride. 

In stark contrast was my upbringing, void of the presence of all 4 grandparents. Two of mine were already gone when I was born, I never met my dad’s father, and I can’t picture my mom’s father’s face or voice; he passed when I was 5. I can vaguely recall his wife’s white-silver curly hair and coral-colored lipstick, and I can visualize my siblings and me sitting on hard plastic furniture covers in their living room while wishing I could have an ice cream cone instead of the hard candies in the glass bowl that were offered to us.  

In my 20s, however, I did enjoy the amazing warmth and tenderness of my then-husband’s grandmother MomMom, who scooped me up and made me one of her own. Because I wanted to learn and she reveled in teaching me, she spent eons of time sharing her skills and knowledge so that I could become a “balabusta” – the Yiddish expression for being a good homemaker – and patiently sat with me so I could practice crocheting a granny square afghan, baking kamish bread and preparing matzoh ball chicken soup for the Jewish holidays.

There was something so gratifying about being a novice under her watchful eye and loving heart; these days, I could easily find information on YouTube, given that everything is just a click away.  But I'd miss so much, in comparison.         

As you can see, I relish the precious connection between grandparent and grandchild.

By the way, the name I chose for myself is MomMom.