There are some things I don’t miss about mothering my children. I was always such a bundle of nerves that every “first” terrified me. First night of sleeping all the way through? She’ll never wake up!(even though she was months older hitting that milestone than my friends’ kids). First solid food? He’ll choke! (even though it’s fairly difficult to asphyxiate on runny rice cereal). First walking? She’ll take a terrible fall! (even though she was only toddling three steps into my arms). And don’t get me started on first bike ride without training wheels! Agony! Even as I pretended to smile and cheer, inside I was jello. And old habits die hard. Just today, Sheridan took a swim in the very choppy bay waters and I didn’t take my eyes off him the whole time (and he’s—ahem—29 now).
Neurotic and panicky as I was, my five managed to get through their childhoods remarkably free of my quirks, and are all pretty darned adventurous now. For example, last year Evan, Rose and Julie were on the Big Island of Hawaii together. In short order, Rose and Evan jumped off a cliff into the ocean; all three hiked a volcano, navigating rocks with oozing lava on them (they poked the orange
All around me these days, my friends are becoming grandparents. One by one, Becky and Perrin and Sue and Janine and Mary Ellen are turning into “Nana,” “Granny," etc. Someday it will be my turn, and while I can’t wait for the babies, I fervently hope I do not maintain my fever pitch of fear and worry about these precious children-to-be.
I think of my Nana a lot down here at the shore. Nana and her sister, my Aunt Rose, rented a cottage at Normandy Beach, NJ from Memorial Day to Labor Day every summer. As a treat, my sister Mo and I got to spend two weeks with them in early July. Nana loved us to distraction, but child care was definitely on her terms. On the sand, she plied us with a picnic hamper full of food—sandwiches, chips, cookies—and told us we had to wait 30 minutes to swim after eating. At the 29 minute mark, out would come more food. Took us quite awhile to catch on—she was really afraid to watch us in the ocean at all.
While I adored her, I don’t want to BE her. She, like my own mom, like me, was just too nervous. So what kind of Grandma do I want to be? Above all, cool and calm and serene. I want to rock my little ones, and soothe them, and reassure them that the world is a truly wonderful place.
Soooo….personality transplant, anyone?