Since yesterday was officially designated “Grandparents’ Day,” I thought I’d share some thoughts about that odd relationship that exists between many children and their grandparents.
One grandparenting adage says:
“The two greatest joys a grandparent has are seeing the headlights of the car bringing to grandkids for a visit – and the taillights of the car hauling them away.”
Sometimes after an invasion from Munchkin Land, Sandra will say:
“Listen. … Just listen.”
We pause, swathed in the sound of silence that falls after the purveyors of cacophony depart.
On one of the doors of the bathroom, Sandra has posted a sign that confronts us each time we ascend the throne. The words come from Alex Haley, author of “Roots.” They read:
“Nobody can do for children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children.”
I have lived long enough to exist on both ends of that spectrum. Granny Parker spent much of her life sprinkling stardust over me. She worked a magic on my life that endures to this day.
Anyone who has spent time reading the words I put in this space knows that I am a proud papa of 12 grandchildren – 11 on Earth and one in Heaven. In March, Lydia will make that number a baker’s dozen. Will I be their Bilbo Baggins?
Since I survived the trials of raising four children, I understand the burdens of parenting. Jobs must be worked, houses cleaned, clothes washed, meals prepared, grass cut, bills paid – and children nurtured. Most moms put in a long day at work only to come home to spend their few remaining waking hours caring for the house and the kids.
When Sandra and I know any of our grandkids are coming, we try to clear our schedule. When those kids hit the door, they become our chief focus from that moment until we cart them home or their parents pick them up.
Grandparents can commit time most parents cannot give to their children. Do you have any idea how many episodes of “Bubble Guppies,” “Dora,” and “Team Umizoomi” we have watched? Can you imagine the puzzles we have helped put together? Or the number of books we have read?
For a while, each time Alex came to the house, he would head to the bookshelf, grab “The Hungry Caterpillar,” and climb up beside me.
“Read me this book,” he would say. And I would read. When I got to the part about the caterpillar being “still hungry,” Alex chanted with me: “and he was STILL HUNGRY.”
Haley, Taylor, Jaxen, Isaiah and Abby are lovers of jig-saw puzzles. Ben loves to play the make-shift empty-coffee container drum set. Thank goodness he has not figured out a way to make a cymbal. Hannah likes for me to sing “Wagon Wheel.” Allison loves to eat, so I usually make pancakes while she is with us.
Time and attention are the twin ingredients of that inscrutable stardust grandparents sprinkle.
Most children can never appreciate what their parents do for them because the kindnesses and provisions are lost in the whirlwind of living. I had to become a parent before I ever understood the subtle – and not so subtle – things my mom and dad did for me. But grandparents are the calm eye in the midst of that storm.
Granny was always my saint, patron provider of yellow cake with chocolate icing and a glass of iced tea. Later, iced tea changed into a cup of coffee, but the cake remained constant. She was my anchor.
Now I am trying to share the stardust Granny sprinkled on my life with children five generations removed.
I think the magic is still working.
Mike Parker is a columnist for The Free Press. You can reach him at mparker16@suddenlink.net or in care of this newspaper.