Grandchildren
What is it about them?
Kim and I have just returned from St. Louis after spending several days with her son and his wife and their two sons. We had much to celebrate: spending time with distant family, a new home for Bill and Rachel, and the third birthday of their oldest child. It’s the last that provided the impetus for our visit.
Of course.
Our blended family has six grandchildren so far (okay, Kim’s kids have provided them all), the oldest still months away from turning four, the youngest just three weeks old. Kim and I will host them all — oh, and their parents — for Christmas. The holiday promises many bonanzas, but the one that resonates most is that our six grandchildren will be together for the first time.
I have been wondering over the past couple years why it is that grandparents lavish so much love and attention on their grandchildren. It can’t just be that they share a common enemy.
I believe that the most direct answer is usually the truest, and I suppose the most direct answer here is that, freed from keeping children fed and clothed and healthy and teaching them how to behave (replete with discipline), we can be the kind and overly generous people that we all want to be. The idea fits, and it may provide the bulk of the explanation.
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But perhaps other forces are at work too.
Hard-won experience from our parenting days informs us. Having seen most situations a few times now, we can better differentiate what’s important and what really doesn’t matter. We have more data points. And my own data points tell me that I would have better served my two daughters if I had spared the rod far more than I did (metaphorically speaking — I’ve never struck my children, instead using voice and countenance to express my all-too-frequent disapproval). Seeing in retrospect that encouragement is far healthier I am more committed to using it with the developing minds and bodies of grandchildren.
The adult world is also complex. Nuanced. Shaded. We expend so much energy to navigate emerging technologies and evolving social norms that test our comfort levels. Plus our degrading health imposes fears and frustrations. Our world demands much, and I find myself wondering more and more often whether I am up to the task of giving what it requires. There are increasingly more places where my confidence or my competence has eroded. Playing with toy cars or picking strawberries from Kim’s garden or stacking blocks to be knocked over again are well within my grasp, and that helps me feel useful and relevant. Like I still have something to offer.
I find myself valuing honesty and directness more highly as I age too. I’ve always appreciated people who said and did what they meant, but I have less patience for obfuscation and disingenuity and convolution, probably because I have less energy to waste on discerning meaning (see adult world, above). And children communicate only directly and honestly.
I don’t think we can discount joy and wonder either. Seeing kids discover their world is both fascinating and affirming. I do not tire of witnessing their amazement when they experience something new followed closely by their mastery of it. There isn’t much deferred gratification either — kids are very quick studies, probably because they are learning simple things about their world, and therefore the pace of their learning is fast. No multi-year theses here.
And, finally, connection. Big smiles shared when we understand a joke together. Holding hands easily for comfort and security, A tired and trusting baby face burrowing into a shoulder before bedtime. The delight of having a ten-month-old echo a vocalization — Kim and I howled for the baby (because he smiled when we did), and then after hearing it a half-dozen times he tried it himself. No better feeling.
The grandparent thing feels very different to me than the things with my children, but regardless of the cause it also feels very real and very strong.
Let the spoiling begin.
