What’s it like to love, love, and then love again, just as deeply three generations later? I don’t know — ask a grandma.
When I was a young girl I was blessed to grow up with “Grandmommy.” Grandmommy took care of my sister and me while my mom and dad went to work. Grandmommy picked us up from school, fed us, and showed up at every single extra-curricular event, rain or shine. Now that I have my own children, Grandmommy loves them like she loves me and my own mother has taken the role of Grandmommy (Mimi) to my children.
They say “it takes a village,” and it does. I can’t imagine raising kids without my mother-in-law, my mom, and my grandparents. They keep my babies both while I’m working and on the occasional date night with my husband. And once, when I had emergency surgery, my mother-in-law stepped in to take care of both of my children while I lay helpless in a hospital bed. When my son was sick, the first people by his side were his grandparents.
This stage of life is really, really hard. Raising babies, getting them to sports events, taking care of them when they’re sick, taking off work (again) for school performances and appointments. It’s overwhelming sometimes. I thank God for those who help support my husband and me every single day. Someday when I’m a grandma, I know I will be a central part of helping Amelia and Lincoln when they’re parents. There’s something really special about grandma. It’s not just her warm house, her candy stash, and her comfortable couch. Her love is much deeper than anything.
Give me an old wrinkly hand. Give me a slow, steady story. Give me decades of hosting holiday gatherings and a home full of love. Tired eyes, honest words, and a loyal heart — that’s what grandmas are made of.
