The 10 commandments for grandmothers

Commandments for Grandmas.JPG

ONE

Thou shall not put one grandchild above any other grandchild, in favor, gifts, deeds, or attention.

TWO

Thou shall not make for yourself a collection of images taken from the Facebook account, online photo-sharing service, or—heaven forbid—a physical photo album belonging to the parents of the grandchild without asking first.

THREE

Thou shall not take the name of the grandchild’s parents in vain for the manner in which they’re feeding, disciplining, spoiling, raising your grandchild(ren). At least not in front of the children.

FOUR

Remember the Sabbath Day or whatever day may immediately follow a visit with the grandkids. Use it wisely to rest up, for you will surely need to recover from the energy depletion resulting from the constant attention, crafting, joking, cooking, and uncommon physical activity required—and fully enjoyed—while in the presence of a grandson or granddaughter.

FIVE

Honor the father and mother of your grandchildren for in most cases, they really are trying their hardest to do right by the children.

SIX

Thou shall not murder the dietary and bedtime guidelines set forth by the grandchild’s parents. At least not often. And only when chocolate or a request for just one more bedtime story is involved.

SEVEN

Thou shall not commit adult-like expressions that demean the grandchild, no matter how challenging the child may be. Especially at an overdue bedtime—for the child or the grandma. Or during shopping excursions. Or when the little one won’t eat a special something you cooked up just for him or her, snarling and refusing to take even one single nibble because it’s too brown or too red or touching the food next to it.

EIGHT

Thou shall not steal all the time with the grandchild—especially a newborn—from other family members simply because you want to continue loving, touching and squeezing the little one, for others do, too. Volunteer, instead, to change the most stinkily soiled of diapers—something others refuse to do—then take your time doing it. 

NINE

Thou shall not bear false witness against the dog to keep a grandchild from getting in trouble for attempting to dig to China in the front yard or eating the last of the cookies from Mom’s cookie jar.

TEN

Thou shall not covet the time the other grandma has with your grandchildren, even if it’s far more than the time you are allotted. For regarding the moments grandmas and grandchildren share, the quality of the time not the quantity will be most memorably held in the hearts of the grandchildren—and the grandmother.

Today's question:

Which commandment are you most guilty of breaking? (Of the commandments above!)

To my 20-year-old self

I'm fortunate to be part of a Facebook group of midlife women bloggers, called GenFab (Generation Fabulous). This week we have our first blog hop, posting on "What would you tell your 20-year-old self?" Here is my response, followed by links to the moving posts from my GenFab friends.

Dear 20-year-old Lisa,

You became a mom when still just a child yourself. As you suspect, the age at which you have your three precious daughters (yep, that babe in your belly right now is a girl, too) will affect everything you do and are throughout your life.

That can be a good thing, though—if you allow it.

In hopes you will indeed allow it, I have some advice for you. Despite you being stubborn in ways many have yet to realize, I do hope you'll take my advice to heart, act on it.

My advice is this:

Stop being so scared. You're scared about what's to come, what people think of you, what your girls—hell, what you—will grow up to do and be. You're scared of the other, older moms who seem to know and have and be so much more than you. You're scared of not knowing enough, not having enough, not being enough.

Well knock it off! There's no reason to be scared. Well, there is reason sometimes. But there will soon be an advertising tagline that says, Feel the fear and do it anyway. Do exactly that—always, in all ways.

Question authority. That principal who tells you it's okay to send your barely five-year-old daughter to kindergarten? Question that. That doctor who tells you tubes in a child's ears are a thing of the past? Question that. That same doctor, who tells you your daughter has an infection when it turns out to be a <cuss> hernia? Question that. When you're assured a negative amortization loan is okay, question it. And when an editor rejects your work, question that—then send it to other editors and never. ever. give. up.

Don't take the job. A few years from now, you'll be offered a job by someone you consider worldly and wise. Don't take it. The damage to your self-esteem, marriage and more because of "friends" you make there is so not worth it. Trust me. Yes, your household desperately needs the money, but Just say NO! (another slogan that will soon be a pop culture hit).

Brace yourself. I know you, I know you'll ignore the advice above. So brace yourself. The stress caused by the consequences of that bad choice will wreak havoc on your health in ways that will affect you each and every day for the rest of your life. Seriously. But know this: It's not as bad as doctors first tell you. You will walk again. You will see again. In fact, your neurologist will one day tell you you're a miracle. Trust that doctor. And trust that you will be okay.

Brace yourself, part two. Those little girls you hold in your arms today and the tiny one in your womb? Well, they're going to hate you. They will love you at first, of course. But when they're teens, they will hate you. Or at least think they hate you and make you think they really do. Because you'll be a mean mom and won't allow them to do much of what their friends do. Yet you won't be able to stop the typical teen stuff your girls manage to do anyway. And your disapproval, restrictions, and determination that they respect themselves and their parents—and that they just plain stay alive through the trauma-filled teen years!—will have them screaming, crying, resisting, and swearing they hate you because you are such a mean mom.

Be mean anyway. Regardless of their freakouts and your heartbreak and self doubt, be mean. It's what those girls—what many children—need. One day they will thank you, I swear. In fact, one night 28 years from now, that tiny bundle in your belly, the baby whom you've not yet met, will send you a text (something you'll learn to do decades from now) that says this:

Your baby girl's text—along with similar gratitude from her older sisters, once grown—confirm being mean was one of the most right things you'll do.

Have no doubt, the years ahead will definitely suck at times. But those sucky times will make you stronger, smarter, bring into breathtaking focus the brilliance of the many non-sucky times. Ultimately, you, your marriage (which does last, by the way, despite the challenges, stats, and naysayers), your babies, your eventual grandbabies, your life will turn out far better than you ever imagined.

Even if you don't listen to my advice.

Which I know you won't. Because you've always been far more stubborn than most people realize.

I love you anyway.

~ Your far older and a wee bit wiser self

Today's question:

What would you tell your 20-year-old self?

Please enjoy the heartfelt posts from my GenFab friends. Warning: Tissue alert for most!

The Saturday Post: Women Vote - 'Night of Terror' edition

It's far too easy to take for granted that women have a voice and a hard-earned right, thanks to what those brave and persistent women before us endured.

Make your voice heard. Exercise your right. Vote!

Find more on women's suffrage on Snopes and Wikipedia.

Enjoy your Saturday — and shout Hooray! for it being the last Saturday we have to endure political commercials!

Family fibber

My phone rang earlier than usual yesterday morning. Caller ID showed it was Megan.

"Hey there," I answered, a strong What's up? in my tone.

"Hi Gramma," was the response.

"Bubby? Is this Bubby?" I asked. "Did you go trick-or-treating last night?"

"Yeah," he replied rather unenthusiastically. "I called to tell you something, Gramma."

I sat back in my chair, listening closely for his tale of trick-or-treating to come.

"I called to <mumble, mumble, indecipherable mumble> breakfast in bed," my grandson warbled.

"What, Bubby? I couldn't hear you. Say that again."

"I didn't have breakfast in bed, Gramma. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Oh.

Seems the conversation on which yesterday's post was based was all a bunch of baloney, for Bubby had come clean (surely at Mommy's urging): He never had breakfast in bed on his birthday and made up the story he'd told Gramma.

"I'm sorry, Gramma," he offered again.

"Okay, Bubby," I said. "You should never tell stories like that to Gramma."

I wasn't really sure how to respond. Megan made it clear in the past that I'm never to say That's okay when Bubby apologizes for something that is not okay. Simply forgive and move on, is her suggested response—which I'm supposed to follow, as she's the mom in charge.

After a fumbling forgiveness from Gramma, Bubby cut the conversation short with a quick I love you then put Mommy Megan on the phone.

"Sorry, Mom. It never happened," Megan said. "As I read your post, I was thinking What in the world? Then I realized Bubby had lied to you. He did choose Reese's cereal for breakfast—last year for his three-year-old birthday—but not this year. And he never had breakfast in bed."

So it seems we have a little fibber in the family.

Megan and I agreed that such things are pretty common with a four-year-old and no big deal, and that in Bubby's imagination such a marvelous thing did indeed happen, so he was happy to share the exciting (albeit untrue) event with Gramma.

Kind of an eye-opener for Gramma, I must admit. But, lesson learned.

Bubby learned lying to Gramma about the simplest of things isn't a good idea.

Gramma learned writing a post about a conversation with Bubby without first confirming the truth of the tale with Mommy isn't a good idea either.

Today's question:

What's your experience with children telling untrue tales?