What I learned this week: One way my eldest daughter is not like me

My eldest daughter, Brianna, is very much like me. She and I enjoy the same books, same movies, same music — for the most part (that silly girl adores country music far more than I ever will).

We like the same clothing style, love the same foods, and we have many of the same mannerisms. We even unintentionally say the very same things at the very same times often enough that Jim, upon hearing our comments in stereo — one side me, one side Brianna — regularly responds to us with, "Will you two stop doing that!?"

Yes, Brianna is very much like me.

There is one way in which my daughter is so not like me, though. It's something we both learned this week. It's something that led me to thank God out loud upon hearing.

That something is this: Brianna does not have MS.

I'm talking about multiple sclerosis — a drag of a disease I've worried for decades one or more of my daughters would inherit from me... despite there being no proof MS is hereditary.

Hereditary or not, Brianna began expressing concerns about unusually numb feet and oddball sensations in her body about six months ago. Just a complaint here and there, sentiments she'd pass along knowing darn well it was scaring the hell out of me despite my calm and reassuring demeanor at the mentions.

"It's probably just related to your back," I'd say on the outside while fearing the worst on the inside.

See, Brianna was in a car accident a few years ago, rear-ended by a landscaping truck that never even hit the brakes as she was stopped at a red traffic light. It wasn't good, especially for her back. Brianna eventually, though not even 25 years of age at the time, had to undergo emergency back surgery months after the accident but related to the accident. She's had minor pain and numbness and pings and pinches in her feet and legs ever since.

But when those minor pings and pains recently changed to major and began sounding more and more like the pings and pains I experienced before being diagnosed with MS 21 years ago, neither of us could ignore the symptoms. Brianna needed to see a doctor who would confirm or rule out MS.

Brianna saw that doctor Wednesday.

The doctor ruled out MS Wednesday.

I learned Wednesday that my daughter who is very-so-very much like me is not like me in the one way I prayed she and her sisters would never, ever be.

Hallelujah!

Yes, there's nerve damage and neuropathy and issues my daughter — who just turned 31 on Sunday — will deal with the rest of her life, things that may worsen throughout her life.

We both agree that sucks.

Yet we also both agree on this: Thank God it's not MS.

In that way we are very much alike.

In that way we both say — in stereo — hallelujah!

And that is what I — and Brianna — learned this week.

I learned another thing this week (yesterday, in fact), this one far more sad: Our bloggy friend Joan, whom many of you know as Gramcracker and who blogs at Gramcracker Crumbs, lost her husband unexpectedly this week. Please keep Joan and her loved ones in your thoughts and prayers.

Have a safe, happy and memorable weekend. I look forward to connecting with you again on Monday.

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

New mom possessiveness: Seeking help from the grandmahood

I recently received an email from a pregnant mother who will soon have her first child. As the baby's birth nears, the new mom wrote, she's having difficulty coming to terms with the intense, scary and perfectly normal feelings of possessiveness over her baby — especially in relation to the soon-to-be-born child's grandmothers.

"Can you help?" she asked me.

Seems my post titled Grandma's No. 1 came up when this new mother Googled search queries such as "grandma obsessed with my baby." Admittedly, I just may sound a tad obsessed in that post, but I wrote those words from the heart and believe it's the truth on how many a grandma feels about her grandchildren. We are obsessed.

Which is exactly what concerns this new mother. It's why she asked if I could help her understand us crazy-in-love grandmas — an understanding that may help if her baby's grandmas turn out like the rest of us.

Before I respond to her, though, I'm seeking input from you, the Grandma's Briefs "grandmahood." Together we may properly shed light on why grandmothers feel the way we do. My hope is that as a whole, we can offer some guidance regarding what she calls the "stickiness in my heart" and her overwhelming feelings of possessiveness for her newborn when it comes to the "pretty reasonable" grandmothers in her life, who admittedly "haven't pulled any super crazy overbearing grandparent moves." 

First, of course, I must share with you the new mom's concerns about grandmothers in general and my Grandma's No. 1 post in particular. So here is the bulk of her letter to me:

There was a specific part in your post that bothered me. You said, "The thing is, when it comes to grandkids — and any grandma knows this, so I'm pretty much talking to the non-grandmas here — it's such a fresh, new, overwhelming love that it's hard to not gush and glow over it. New mothers feel the very same world-shaking love for their newborn, for their little ones as they grow..."

I have to very much disagree that grandmothers feel the SAME love for a newborn as their mothers do. Strong and also world-shaking, yes — but not the same. And even the way you worded this — that in fact mothers share the same love as grandmothers, instead of the other way around, also rubbed me the wrong way.

I also truly don't understand this section: "Much to their delight, they're getting a second opportunity to relish the fully-enveloping motherly love for a child. And relish it we do. Just like we did when our first child was born. And the second. And the third. And more."

I see what you're saying here, but this is NOT your child — so it is not the same love, and it may feel fully enveloping but it should still not compete with the mother's own love.

I'm sorry if I sound confrontational. That isn't my intention. I hope you'll forgive my very strong new mama feelings.

So please, please tell me: Do grandparents actually think that their love for the grandkids is the same as the parents' love?

I genuinely do not understand the grandparent obsession, to the point that it seems unhealthy to me. And I know all the boundary-less women my mom and MIL know that have grandkids are not helping them to be sane about my baby. I and am of course on the other side of life right now and just really struggling to relate to their feelings. I want to respect them, but also set reasonable boundaries.

Any tips on how to handle these feelings without hurting the grandparents' feelings or causing strife? Is this just something that needs to change in my heart?

Thanks for listening.

I want to tell this new mother that yes, we grandmothers do feel an all-consuming love for our grandchildren that is just like that of a mother, at least in terms of the degree of consumption.

I want to tell her that reasonable, well-intentioned grandmothers certainly don't want to possess or parent our grandchildren, that we delight in seeing our children parent our grandchildren, sometimes with such delight we fear our hearts will burst with pride.

And I want to tell her the importance of remembering that at least one of the grandmothers she worries about once held her in their arms, that they loved, adored, cuddled and worried about her in exactly the same way she is and will with her baby. That that grandmother fully understands and could shed light on the situation better than any stranger could. So talk to her about boundaries, expectations, her love and respect for the grandmothers in relation to what works for her as a new mother.

Mostly, I just want to tell her to not fret about competition or who loves the baby more, to accept that her role as the one and only mother of that child is a given — and that rational, loving grandmothers will give her the space to be that, do that, own that.

That's what I want to tell that new mother. But I want to know what you — the grandmothers and others who may see yourself in my words or hers — would tell this heart-heavy mother who wants to do and be and feel what's right for her baby, for the grandmothers and for herself.

So please share your thoughts. Ultimately, perhaps the best thing for me to do is direct the new mom to this post and your comments, so she'll glean guidance from the grandmahood collective, not just from me. I thank you. I venture to say she will, too.

Today's question:

What would you say to the new mother regarding the "stickiness" in her heart?

5 things I do different in an empty nest

My nest was full for a good 20-plus years. Then one by one, my three girlie birds flew away.

It took a while to get used to the empty spaces and absent faces, but I'd say I'm now past the mourning phase and well into appreciating that my husband and I have the place all to ourselves.

Things are different in an empty nest. It's not only the fewer family members kicking about the place, but the activities that happen at home now that make for a wee bit different way of life. To wit, the following.

5 THINGS I DO DIFFERENT IN AN EMPTY NEST

I grocery shop only when absolutely necessary. When my nest was full, I had a regular shopping day. Every single week for a bazillion years, I'd make a list, gather my coupons, then head out the door for the chore I hate most: stocking the fridge, the pantry, the bathrooms and more. I'd walk the grocery store aisles and fill my cart on shopping day whether the cupboards were empty and we really needed food or not. Now that the nest is empty, I shop when the fridge features little more than a few shriveled grapes, a jar of pickle relish, and two bottles of salad dressing that likely should have been thrown away months ago.

We eat dinner in front of the television... a lot. When my oldest daughter was about five years old, we moved our big television (ya know, the one in a massive wood console cabinet and weighing 10 tons and having a UHF and VHF channel changer thingee yet no remote) out of the living room on the main floor where it was visible from the dining room, and into the family room in the basement. Watching television during family dinners did not fit my idea of what family dinners should be. So the TV went down the stairs and conversation between family members became the goal. Every once in a while, we'd have a night featuring pizza and movies, a night when it was okay to sit in front of the TV in the family room while eating. Now that the nest is empty, Jim and I have many nights when it's okay to sit in front of the TV while eating. (The TV is still downstairs, though, as I still consider having it visible from the dining room verboten. Interestingly enough, our dining room features far less actual dining than it did in the past.)

I run around the house naked. Okay, I don't really run around the entire house naked, but I do a nude dash from the bathroom to the bedroom to get my clothes after I shower. When my girls were at home, I brought my clothes into the bathroom (not the master bath, which is Jim's... and we don't share a bath... which is one reason we've managed more than 30 years of marriage... but that's another story for another day) before showering, so I could get dried and dressed before even opening the door. I could still do that but I don't. Partially because racing from my bathroom to the bedroom — which involves climbing a flight of stairs — is sometimes the only exercise I get for the day. Plus, as I get a package delivered nearly every single day, I enjoy the challenge of hauling <cuss> before a delivery man appears at the door. (Thankfully for said delivery men, I have never, ever not won the challenge.)

I make my husband breakfast on weekdays. When our children were at home, said children were my primary focus morning, noon and night. Poor Jim never got breakfast on school days unless he was willing to have a bowl of cold cereal — which he hates and I've never seen him eat in all the decades of our marriage — or a bowl of hot cereal, which he hates, too. Those were the main menu options on school days, along with Johnny Cake now and then (carbs were our friend back in the day). Now that the nest is empty — and I'm a work-from-home freelancer — I feel pretty guilty lounging around in my jammies as Jim heads out the door to toil away on bringing in our only stable income. The guilt is compounded if he has nothing in his tummy. So I make him coffee to take with him. And I make him breakfast to take with him, too. Mostly something featuring carbs because though they're no longer our friend, Jim loves carbs. At least he no longer goes hungry on weekday mornings.

And, of course, we eat funnel cake for breakfast, if we want. I admitted this yesterday. Carbs. Grease. No justifications. Enough said.

Today's question:

What do you do different in your empty nest (or hope to do once it empties)?

Picture this: Two crabs

This post linked to 5 Minutes for Mom and Wordless Wednesday.

Today's question:

In what ways does your personality match the supposed traits of your astrological sign?

Photo replay: Cheesing it up

Across the finish line and into the Facebook Photo Booth.

Andrea, Lisa, and Brianna

 Walk MS 2013 — May 18, 2013

Today's question:

When did you last have a photo taken of you?

Picture this: When Mom had her day

Mother's Day 2013

Today's question:

What was a highlight of your Mother's Day?

Wherein Grandma whines and wails about not getting her way

For one bright, shining moment recently, all was right in my world as a mother and grandmother.

Brianna, my oldest, was happy with herself, happy in her job, happy with her Harley-riding boyfriend.

Andrea, my youngest, was happy with herself, in her job, and with her camera-toting boyfriend, too.

Megan, my middle daughter — mother to my grandsons and a teacher, too — was happy with the prospect of the school year ending, happy with her ever-so-helpful hubby, happy with being Mommy to my grandsons.

And I, mother and grandmother, was happy not only because they all were happy, but also because Megan mentioned she and Preston had accumulated enough Southwest rewards points that Megan and my grandsons could possibly, nay, probably, visit Gramma and PawDad at the end of May.

A probable visit meant my entire family (except Preston, who would have to work) would soon be together for the first time since June of last year.

A probable visit meant we'd all get to celebrate Mac's birthday and Bubby's birthday — which are both in June — while they're here.

A probable visit would mean Megan would get to meet her sisters' boyfriends who just might one day be more than that.

And a probable visit meant Bubby and Mac would finally get to dig for treasure in our back yard again, something Bubby had wished and wished and wished for during my visit a few weeks ago. (That and to watch Gramma make popcorn in the popcorn cart again, too.)

All was right and good in my world.

For one bright and shining moment.

Alas, how quickly those bright, shining moments fade.

Megan told me this past weekend that the possible trip to the mountains had become a definite-no-question-about-it no go. With many changes on the horizon for them, she and Preston would be consumed all summer working out important details on the this and that for their family.

Plus, when not working on this and that, they'd be using their Southwest reward points to attend the wedding of Preston's cousin. With no Southwest rewards to spare, a trip to the mountains to see family was simply not going to happen. Not soon. Not in the not-so-soon either.

*Poof!* My bright, shining moment vanished, with no reappearance likely for quite some time. At least when it comes to having my entire family together. At my place, at any place.

Sure, I will likely (I hope) get to see my grandsons before the end of 2013... at their place. But they — and Megan — won't get to visit my place. Worse yet, they won't get to see PawDad, Aunt B or Aunt Andie. And PawDad, Aunt B and Aunt Andie won't get to see them.

I get that other things must take priority at the moment. I sincerely get that. But that doesn't mean I can't be disappointed. Yet the word disappointed doesn't begin to explain how it feels.

Yes, I know it could be worse, that people are dealing with devastation beyond compare to my relatively trivial complaints. And there are innumerable parents and grandparents who have it far worse than I do, parents and grandparents who get to see their loved ones far less often than I do... if at all.

Perhaps I'm being silly. Jim and I have three daughters, and we get to see two of them as often as we — or they — choose. Two out of three ain't bad... or so I'm supposed to believe.

Every once in a while, though, I want more than two out of three. I want the trifecta of daughters all at one time — plus a double dose of grandsons, too. With PawDad. At our house. More for the sake of Jim and my other two daughters than for myself, as I do get to see Megan and the boys far more than the others do. But it's important the others see them, too, for it's hard to create close ties with family if chunks of the family never see one another. I want my grandsons to have close family ties — with all the chunks of our family.

For now, though, it's not going to happen. Definitely not this summer, and for who knows how long after that.

Priorities. I get it. I do. And I don't begrudge Megan doing what she must in figuring out important matters, doing what's right for her family. I really, truly, honestly get it.

But that doesn't mean I — and PawDad, Aunt B and Aunt Andie — can't be disappointed... or whatever the word for mega-super-duper-disappointed might be.

(It also doesn't mean I'll whine and wail forever. Just for today.)

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

The last time my family was all together was _____________.

Photo replay: Run, Bubby, run

Bubby participated in his first organized run yesterday — the half-mile kids' dash during an annual community run that benefits local families in need.

Bubby ran with Mommy (who placed first in her division in the adult run), and when the going got rough after about a quarter of the way, they held hands and pumped their arms together.

Megan reported that they sprinted at the end, and Bubby was quite proud of himself once he'd crossed the finish line.

Soon after, I received this text from Megan: "I just asked him if he would ever do a race again and he said 'No way! But you know what I got from my race?' Then showed me his guns! Ha!"

Seems for a nearly 5-year-old, the arm pumping is far more enjoyable — with better payoff — than the leg pumping.

Today's question:

Which do you work harder to keep fit — your guns (arms) or your legs?

Easter guests plus the GRAND Social

I hope your Easter Sunday was wonderful. Mine was grand, in many ways.

Though I didn't have the pleasure of spending the holiday with my grandsons and their parents, Megan did text me this photo of the cutie pies:

 

The folks Jim and I did have the pleasure of spending Easter with were the good-looking couples below — Brianna and Andrea and their boyfriends (whom I forgot to ask permission to post their photos, so I'm not including their names):

It was our first gathering with the guys, and I look forward to many more to come.

I also look forward to the great posts to come in this week's GRAND Social link party. Thank you for joining me.

How it works:

• All grandparent bloggers are invited to add a link. You don't have to blog specifically about grandparenting, but you must be a grandparent who blogs.

• To link up, copy the direct URL to the specific post — new or old — that you want to share, not the link to your blog's home page. Then click the blue "Click here to enter" text below and follow the directions to add your post and graphic to the list.

• You can add up to three posts, but no duplicates, please, and none you have promoted on a previous GRAND Social linky. And no contests, giveaways, or Etsy sites, please.

• Adding a mention at the bottom of your linked posts, such as This post has been linked to the GRAND Social linky, is appreciated. Or, you can post the GRAND Social button anywhere on your page using the following code:

<a href="/" target="_blank"><img src="http://grandmasbriefs.squarespace.com/storage/GRANDsocialbutton.jpg " alt="Grandma’sBriefs.com" width="125" height="125" /></a>

• The GRAND Social linky is open for new posts through Wednesday evening, so please come back to see those added after your first visit.

• If you're not a blogger, you have the pleasure of being a reader. All bloggers who link up would be honored to have you all — bloggers and readers — visit, read and comment, even if it's just "Hey, stopping by from the GRAND Social."

• Looking for another grandparent linky? Be sure to visit Connie's Grandparent's Say It Saturday Link Party each Saturday.

Thank you for participating in the GRAND Social!

Mother may I?: Different standards for Grandma

My daughter has a double standard. I didn’t raise her to be that way, but I can no longer deny it.

You see, what my daughter — whom I love deeply and dearly despite this flaw — does with her children, my grandchildren, and what she expects and allows me to do with them are two very different things. Sometimes, in fact, they contradict one another quite starkly.

To wit:

When I am in charge of caring for my grandsons, meaning Mom and Dad have hit the road and enlisted me to babysit, I’m given rules to follow, rules related to eating, sleeping, personal hygiene and safety.

One food-related rule is that the boys get only their three meals a day plus one morning snack and one afternoon snack. I’m not to give them any more, any less. When my daughter’s in charge, though, those kids snack off and on throughout the day. At times not on the written schedule I've been asked to adhere to. Then my grandsons — not so surprisingly, I must add, with a "nyah, nyah" attached — balk at their plates of healthy foods come mealtime.

While we're on the subject of snacks, I must say that my ever-so-health-conscious daughter swears my grandsons are not to have too much sugar. They eat sugar-free cereals, natural peanut butter, corn syrup-free fruit snacks and a variety of other not-so-sweet sorts of things.

But — and you knew there had to be one, right? — the boys are allowed handfuls of M&Ms and other candies when Mom or Dad are eating a few themselves. Handfuls, I tell you. Well, not really handfuls, as they actually get them in little snack bowls (for M&Ms really do melt in your hand, not just in your mouth, at least when it comes to the hands of little boys).

Bedtime features a similar bending of the rules. I’ve been told the boys must be bathed, rocked, read a story, bedtime prayer said, then huggled and snuggled before being tucked in. On a specific schedule and in that order. Which I do happily. (Nearly) every single time. Does my daughter follow that schedule? Um, not usually.

Use of media is another sore spot for me, another place the double standard can’t be denied. This one I’ve actually called my daughter out on — which I don’t normally do. But I just had to say something when nearly a year ago, I allowed my four-year-old grandson to watch a Batman cartoon, and when my daughter found out (thanks, Bubby!), she chastised me with, “Mom, he’s not supposed to watch that. It has mean men who shoot guns.”

I couldn’t hold my tongue. Especially considering that my letting him watch cartoon men who shoot guns, while surely not a great idea, can’t be much worse than his parents letting that same grandson, at that same age, listen to LMFAO’s unsavory (but, yes, rather humorous) ditty “I’m Sexy and I Know It” so many times that he knew most of the words. Worse yet, he considered it his very favorite song at the time.

In the grand scheme of the grandparenting gig, the contradictory rules for Mom versus Grandma aren’t that big of a deal. Really. They’re not harmful to my grandsons. My daughter is an awesome mother with good intentions. She keeps my grandsons safe, sound, and never doubting they are loved and cherished. Plus, as the parent, it's her prerogative, one not afforded the grandparent.

Still, it is a tad disconcerting to see my daughter so full of baloney (and not just because she wouldn't dare be caught dead eating ever-so-very-unhealthy baloney).

Yet, despite the double standard, I do my best to stick to her rules.

Even if they’re silly.

Even if they’re not fair (I say in my whiniest of whiny voices).

I stick to them because they’re my daughter’s rules, and that’s what grandmas must do.

Because grandmas no longer set the rules.

Which is the one rule grandmas would be most wise to remember.

Today's question:

How does the mom-rules/grandma-rules dynamic play out in your family?