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Sunday
March 21, 2010 Since 1922 |
The softest places to fall
By Natalie Whatley
The Baytown Sun Published September 12, 2009 Sunday is a special day to be celebrated and remembered; it’s Grandparents Day. Recall last year I mentioned there was some controversy over how to punctuate the holiday. I’ll use the form I found to be correct, but know there are disagreements. I’m beginning to wonder if there is anything we as human beings can collectively agree upon. That’s a topic for another day.
I wasn’t much on celebrating the holiday in the past because, while I’m a strong proponent of capitalism and free markets, I thought the whole thing was cooked up by greeting card companies. I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong.
It all started with Marian McQuade. She lobbied in the 70s to have the day officially recognized “to honor grandparents, to give grandparents an opportunity to show love for their children’s children, and to help children become aware of the strength, information, and guidance older people can offer.” All the grandparents I know certainly fit the bill, and they’re a versatile bunch as well – help is needed in different ways at different times. But best of all, grandparents provide countless children a soft place to fall.
As I traverse the teen years – again (first time was hard enough, now I get three more trips) – with my children, their grandparents act as the buffers. They help me put things in perspective, remind me what I was like at that age (they enjoy that a bit too much), and dispense the “this too shall pass” pep talk. I almost always feel better – doubly so if said child hangs out at their house, otherwise known as “the buffer zone”, putting some much needed distance between me and the issue of the day.
My kids are blessed beyond words to have people in their lives who love them unconditionally (like I do) and aren’t jaded (like I am) by what I call the daily grind: homework, dirty clothes all over the bathroom and beyond, wet towels (my archenemy and biggest pet peeve) strewn about, and my supposed nagging over menial tasks that I’d not mention again if someone would just do them. (The laughter you hear is my mother, Linda Rowe. Before she does it for me, I’ll admit my room was atrocious. And the bathroom I shared with two brothers . . . let’s just not go there.)
The above brings me to where I shared my subject matter for this week with my middle child. While I know exactly what made my grandparents so dear to me, I wanted to hear his thoughts. “They’re nicer. They’re more fun. They like to do things kids enjoy – you don’t sit for hours and play video games with me or stay at the shooting range all day. They buy me nice things for no reason.” Dagger to my heart. I was almost moved to tears before I remembered his grandparents are not the same people who raised me.
Sure, I have great memories of all sorts of things I did with my parents growing up. But, like me, they were stuck in that daily grind and all that entailed getting me to adulthood in one piece. And to be honest, it’s their demeanor now that keeps me clawing my way back to sanity. One day, and I’m in no particular hurry, it will be my turn.
I cherish the thought of giving a seasoned “this too shall pass” speech. I may even snicker when it’s over. And the very best part: I’ll be able to loosen my stance and be some little do-no-wrong cherub’s soft place to fall.
Many thanks to all the grandparents who continually cushion the blows . . . the world would be a much harder place without you.
Natalie Whatley resides in Baytown with her family.
The Baytown Sun Published September 12, 2009 Sunday is a special day to be celebrated and remembered; it’s Grandparents Day. Recall last year I mentioned there was some controversy over how to punctuate the holiday. I’ll use the form I found to be correct, but know there are disagreements. I’m beginning to wonder if there is anything we as human beings can collectively agree upon. That’s a topic for another day.
I wasn’t much on celebrating the holiday in the past because, while I’m a strong proponent of capitalism and free markets, I thought the whole thing was cooked up by greeting card companies. I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong.
It all started with Marian McQuade. She lobbied in the 70s to have the day officially recognized “to honor grandparents, to give grandparents an opportunity to show love for their children’s children, and to help children become aware of the strength, information, and guidance older people can offer.” All the grandparents I know certainly fit the bill, and they’re a versatile bunch as well – help is needed in different ways at different times. But best of all, grandparents provide countless children a soft place to fall.
As I traverse the teen years – again (first time was hard enough, now I get three more trips) – with my children, their grandparents act as the buffers. They help me put things in perspective, remind me what I was like at that age (they enjoy that a bit too much), and dispense the “this too shall pass” pep talk. I almost always feel better – doubly so if said child hangs out at their house, otherwise known as “the buffer zone”, putting some much needed distance between me and the issue of the day.
My kids are blessed beyond words to have people in their lives who love them unconditionally (like I do) and aren’t jaded (like I am) by what I call the daily grind: homework, dirty clothes all over the bathroom and beyond, wet towels (my archenemy and biggest pet peeve) strewn about, and my supposed nagging over menial tasks that I’d not mention again if someone would just do them. (The laughter you hear is my mother, Linda Rowe. Before she does it for me, I’ll admit my room was atrocious. And the bathroom I shared with two brothers . . . let’s just not go there.)
The above brings me to where I shared my subject matter for this week with my middle child. While I know exactly what made my grandparents so dear to me, I wanted to hear his thoughts. “They’re nicer. They’re more fun. They like to do things kids enjoy – you don’t sit for hours and play video games with me or stay at the shooting range all day. They buy me nice things for no reason.” Dagger to my heart. I was almost moved to tears before I remembered his grandparents are not the same people who raised me.
Sure, I have great memories of all sorts of things I did with my parents growing up. But, like me, they were stuck in that daily grind and all that entailed getting me to adulthood in one piece. And to be honest, it’s their demeanor now that keeps me clawing my way back to sanity. One day, and I’m in no particular hurry, it will be my turn.
I cherish the thought of giving a seasoned “this too shall pass” speech. I may even snicker when it’s over. And the very best part: I’ll be able to loosen my stance and be some little do-no-wrong cherub’s soft place to fall.
Many thanks to all the grandparents who continually cushion the blows . . . the world would be a much harder place without you.
Natalie Whatley resides in Baytown with her family.