Who knew that grandmothering would be so much fun, so exciting and full of new energy? My husband of many, long years shook his head in amazement when I started speaking to people in elevators, offices, and malls. What brought about this change in his usually shy wife? Suddenly I noticed people with newborns! Apparently my daughter’s pregnancy filled my thoughts–our first grand baby. I felt as amazed, too, but words poured out–queries about age, birth order and other such questions bubbled out of real interest in the babies of complete strangers. I had entered grandmotherhood!
That was six years ago. Since then, God has blessed us with a fascinating, much-loved grandson, the miracle of an adopted grand-daughter–also much-loved, and now another baby girl promises to appear soon.
Do all grandmothers find ourselves wanting to DO something? Did God make us with a hormone that urges us to help our daughters? I don’t know, but one thing always happens to me. I search for the yarn basket, brimming with my grandmother’s crochet hooks, knitting needles, an assortment of yarns, buttons, ribbons, and patterns.
One baby afghan, three ruffled posies hats, and one ruffled pink and white bonnet later, my fingers feel a little bruised. But I am a happy grandmother. That basket of yarn, buttons, bows, crochet hooks, and knitting needles always seem to satisfy whatever urge propels me. Am I odd, or do other grandmothers feel the same?