The Grandmother Syndrome

February 19, 2010 at 9:54 pm Leave a comment

February 19, 2010

Just over a week ago, I took on the role as target speaker for an area Toastmasters club Evaluation contest, then the next day gave a “new and improved” version to my own club for the International Speech contest. My topic was about being a grandmother, and the title, the header you see on this post.  No, I’m not going to copy it here. That would spoil the fun  for the time I give the speech again.

I speak from experience, for I am a grandmother.  My friends who became grandmothers earlier said how much they enjoyed spending time with their grandchildren; now I understand just what they’ve been telling me. I’ve been given an opportunity to see things in a new way. As my granddaughter looks around my home, I wonder what she’s thinking. As she grows, I will get glimpses into her way of seeing the world.

Rather than asking if I’ll babysit, my daughter asks if I’d like cuddle time with my granddaughter. Most often I can say yes, since I’m working from home. I play music we bought for our own children, I tell her stories and sing or say rhymes that I taught my daughters when they were small. I dance with her in my arms. She loves the music, loves the attention.  We dance until I’m ready for a break.

This week I’ve had the privilege of having Evy at our home for most of the week while her mother and father took a short and much-needed holiday. She’s at the stage when she coos, laughs, smiles socially, and begins to roll over.

I prepared formula, fed and bathed my granddaughter,  slept with a monitor next to my ear, woke to her cries when she needed her soother in the night, answered her calls in the morning that she was ready to start her day, even if I wasn’t. To walk in the room and see her smiling face was worth the rousing. Two mornings though, I brought her into bed with me, lay there resting while she looked around, the  early morning light shining through from the edges of the curtains, reflected in her wide blue eyes. She looked around and studied everything, smiling whenever I looked at her, until she gave into the rumbling in her tummy and called me urgently to the task of her breakfast.

I enjoyed those days  with her; the house feels emptier without her and all the equipment that goes with a baby.  Yet I know that at this time in my life, I’m called to the grandmother task; time to love her, cuddle her, and send her back to her parents who love her and who have more energy that I do.


Entry filed under: family, relationships, writing family stories. Tags: .

2010 Olympics opening– under the shadow of Kumaritashvili’s death Snow again–winter as we’ve known it

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed

Twitter Updates

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Top Canadian Blogs - Top Blogs

Book title

debi riley

The Creative Zone for Making Art

Shot By Sarah


Janice L. Dick

Tansy & Thistle Press: faith, fiction, forum

LEANNE COLE - The Photographer's Mentor

Fine Art Photographer ~ Daring to be Different

SIMPLY LIFE with Kathleen Gibson

Just another weblog

I Like It!

Just another weblog

Whatever He Says

Just another weblog

Baden Storytellers' Guild

Continuing the Tradition of Oral Storytelling


thoughts on faith and fiction


Garden adventures and advice...

Promises of Home

Stories of British Home Children, written, compiled and edited by Rose McCormick Brandon

%d bloggers like this: