Grandma
2008 winner
Close your eyes and think “grandma”. What do you see?
My grandma was round and wore an apron and baked bread. She had short, curly hair and twinkling eyes. Every Sunday after church she danced to Polka Varieties while frying chicken for lunch. My grandma was the wife of a dairy farmer and lived four hours away in Pennsylvania. As young children my sister and I would “vacation” on the farm every summer. Grandma would let us do stuff that Mom would never allow. Every Friday we went to the Grange meeting. Every Saturday night we got to stay up late and watch Gunsmoke on TV. Grandma let us drink coffee while we watched Romper Room. She roughly bobby-pinned a lace tablecloth on my head when I played dress-up bride; and when I complained that it hurt, she uttered these words of wisdom: “You have to suffer to be beautiful.” She made us picnic lunches in a big wicker basket that we ate under the mulberry tree in the front yard. She picked berries, baked pies, canned vegetables, and never learned to drive. When our “vacation” was over, Grandma stood outside waving goodbye with her hanky. When I got older I realized that she was crying while she was waving.
When my daughter announced that she was unexpectedly expecting, the first thing that went through my mind was that I was much too young and much too cool to be a grandmother, and I really didn’t want to be someone’s grandma. My grandma fed the chickens, milked the cows, and tended the garden. I am a size four, drive a convertible, and play tennis.
But whether or not I was ready, nine months later my granddaughter was ready. I was called to the hospital to sit with my daughter during labor. The nurse on the telephone indicated that labor was progressing quickly, so I rushed to the hospital at 11:00 p.m. hoping and praying to be on time for the BIG EVENT. Ha! You’d think I would have known better, having had three children myself.
People were in and out of that labor room like there was some big party going on. Friends, relatives, and God forbid, the OTHER grandmother! The husband/father was useless during the whole procedure, sitting in a chair wishing he were anywhere but there. Naturally I had no choice but to take over the room. My daughter whispered for me to get “these people” out of here, and I did my best. Some would not go, like the OTHER grandmother.
And although I hadn’t practiced Lamaze in over 20 years, I found myself in the position of coaching my daughter through her labor pains. It was long and difficult and she was not having an easy time. Finally though, after about SEVEN hours, the doctor determined that it was time for the BIG EVENT. My hard labor, no pun intended, was about to pay off as I would be the first to see the new baby.
Wrong! Only one person could be in the delivery room with the mother; and imagine my surprise when my daughter wanted her useless husband, the baby’s father, instead of me! So off to the waiting room I went, banished just like the OTHER grandmother.
After what seemed like forever but in reality was about an hour, we were given the news that the baby had arrived and was receiving visitors. Rushing into the room I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in my daughter’s arms was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. She was perfect.
And so began the next stage of mothering for me………Grandmothering.
And the next dilemma: What is this baby going to call me? Because yes, I am her grandmother, but I am still too young and too cool to be a grandma. And since there is the OTHER grandmother, I needed a name that was as unique and important as I was.
I spent a lot of time trying to come up with an unusual name for myself. Grammy is my mother, and Granny is that crazy old woman on the Beverly Hillbillies. Nana is the dog in Peter Pan. Yaya just doesn’t make it for me. Grandmother in Spanish is Abuella; again, not me.
Months went by and the baby grew. I still hadn’t thought of a special name for her to call me.
We spend a lot of time together, my granddaughter and me; and I cannot believe how much I loved this baby who was rapidly turning into a little girl.
I thought I was a pretty good mother; but let me tell you, I am a fabulous grandmother! I have more time and more patience and we have more fun than ever. We do puzzles and Mr. Potato Head. We go to the library together. We watch “Stuart Little.” We play tag and hide-and-seek. We play the piano and sing. We scramble eggs. We ride on her tricycle. We put on lipstick and nail polish. When I brush her hair and she cries, “Ouch!” I remind her that she has to suffer to be beautiful.
Recently my granddaughter and I had a picnic in the back yard, much like the picnic under the mulberry tree on my grandmother’s farm. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and said, “I wub you, Gamma.”
Now when I think “grandma” I don’t have to close my eyes; I just look in the mirror