I heard a snippet on Morning Edition or some such show recently while driving. The host was talking about grandmothers and how more and more grandmothers are refusing to be involved in their grandkids' lives.
It made me remember when I told my parents I was pregnant with Scott. (Note that I had been married almost two years—it's not like I was popping a surprise on them.) My mother's immediate reaction: "I raised you. I'm not going to raise yours."
Wait a minute. I didn't ask you to raise mine. I didn't ask you anything. I merely shared my joy and excitement with you, and that's your first response?!
My mother was involved with the boys and did babysit when I needed her, including keeping the infant Scott for ten days while FOMC and I and his parents went on a trip to Spain that he had won through work.
Once FOMC and I divorced and he got custody of the boys, her involvement lessened greatly. She said she was afraid FOMC would answer the phone if she called them, so she never called. You think I'm non-confrontational? I would categorize her behavior as non-confrontational to the max!
In the past probably-15 years, she is haphazard about birthdays and anniversaries. Sometimes she'll send a card, sometimes she'll send a card and a check. Two years ago she totally forgot my birthday. I called her that day so she could wish me a happy birthday, and she said nothing.
I actually feel sorry for her. These grandbabies of mine are the most precious children who have ever been born. (Okay, I'm prejudiced. Your grands are as precious to you as mine are to me.) How much richer her life would be if she would exert the effort to know my children and my grandchildren better.
But then I have to remember that her words and actions toward me when I was a child were what pushed me into therapy in my 30s. (Should have been earlier. I would have been in a much better position if my therapy had started when I was a teenager. But then, that was a different age. I asked FOMC to go into marriage counseling with me after we had been married a couple of months and I knew we were in deep trouble. He said, "We don't talk about our problems outside the family. Alrighty, then.) At age 36 or so, I was in group therapy with a group of seven or eight women. We referred to ourselves as "the daughters of narcissistic mothers."
Life is what it is. You can't change anyone else's behavior. You can't change anyone's priorities. You accept what you've been given and move on. You accept people as you find them.
I cannot, however, understand how a grandmother could not want to be closely involved in her grandchildren's lives. I'm younger, I believe, because I get to view life through my kids' and grandbabes' eyes—on a regular basis.
My life revolves around my grandchildren, then around my kids. I'm very lucky.
Who wouldn't want to feel that lucky?
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And a big thank you to T&J for allowing me to be involved in their lives and for the gift of the past year of cohabitation. I am forever grateful.
<Sidenote off>
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