This Mother’s Day weekend I got to keep my sweet grand babies while their mommy and daddy went to Dallas for a convention and hopefully some well deserved time-away. It is funny how fast the role of mother to young children comes back to you. It is like riding a bike…you just don’t pedal as fast! We both (Peepaw and I) have a new respect for our daughter and son-in-law. Our sweet little grand-daughter woke up throwing up, so I was up all night and still had to take care of a baby that was cutting teeth. The difference is that we might be tired but we get to send them home. My daughter does this everyday NOT just for a weekend. While I was up at 5am, I checked my email and the following came from Grandparents.com. I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate for this Mother’s Day! I remember when I had my babies and how I had a whole new respect for my mom. By the way, if I haven’t told you lately Summer, I think you are a wonderful mother and am so very proud of you! Happy Mother’s Day, friends!
When You’re the Mom of a Mother
by Beverly Beckham
When my older daughter became a mother nearly six years ago, I became a grandmother with a brand-new baby to love. But I also became a different kind of mother to my baby. I was useful again. I knew things. I understood. And the most important thing I understood was how much my daughter loved her child.
Ten months later, my younger daughter gave birth to her firstborn. “Did you feel this way, Mom? Isn’t it amazing? I never knew. Was I as cute?”
Motherhood, part two. That’s what grandparenting really is. Your kids grow up, go off to school, move away. And they don’t need you anymore. They don’t call for advice. And you think, you’re done. That’s it. The job is finished.
And then your kids become parents and you’re suddenly back in the game. “Mom, can you?” “Dad, will you?”
When a child is placed in a woman’s arms — in a hospital, at an airport, in a lawyer’s office, and whether the child is a newborn or a 10-year-old — a woman’s life changes forever.
And so does the life of her mother.
I watch my daughters wipe noses and hands, buckle car seats, peel grapes, insist upon “please” and “thank you,” wipe up spills, dry tears, read books, blow bubbles, monitor the TV, play games, and work outside their homes. And I am struck by the rigors of mothering — how hard it is and tiring and endless, and how amazing it is that anyone signs up for this job.
And then I think, this was once my job. I did all this. “How did you do it, Mom?” my daughters ask. And they listen to my answer because I’ve been down the road they’re on now and they realize that maybe I know a few things they have yet to learn.
The mother-child connection. It changes. It evolves. It grows.
In the space between us now there is still no space. It is filled with children — theirs, but part mine. And on it goes. Mother to mother to child, this eternal bond that is recognized and honored on Mother’s Day.