Good Grandmas

I remember my Aunt Alma. She was very slim and taller than me. Her hair was mostly gray by the time she died, always cut short. She loved to talk, loved to laugh, but mostly loved to be of service, especially to those who’d hit bottom.
She was also the relative I was closest to on my dad’s side. She was grandma to my 2nd cousin Corey. He must miss her most of all. I miss her too, but we still talk. Right after she died, she told me what it was like, her new home. She was happy, very happy.
In this life, we’d spend hours on the phone, Aunt Alma telling me stories of all the cute things Corey said, of all his accomplishments, the presents she gave him each Christmas. They liked to eat at Boston Chicken. He was a late start to read then he leaped far ahead of his peers. He went to grandma’s house after school every afternoon.
I learned all of this long before my kids were old enough to bond with my mom, some even before I was married or had children.
Now I know the valuable link between a grandma and her grandsons.
My mom and Devyn drove off just before I left for the Cafe this evening. They’re heading to her house for a sleep over, car packed with the bed he’ll create on the floor (2 body pillows, 2 comforters, 2 flannel sheets a fuzzy blanket and 2 pillows), treasured stuffed animals and clothes and the current bed time book, full of adventure stories about building character.
He likes time with grandma because she’s nicer to him more often than his parents. That’s the role of grandma right? Very obvious unconditional love. Grandmas are more likely to say yes to another yogurt, more computer time, another movie, another story, another round of UNO. She also has a different perspective. She raised me, then took a break and prayed her butt off I’m sure, then breathed a big sigh when I finally got married and did a little dance when she met Devyn in the delivery room that beautiful summer morning in 2000.
She might go days with out seeing Devyn or Matthew, even months when we lived in other parts of the country (she spent more on plane tickets then, now she spends more on food since they are always …”hungry grandma, may I have some frozen blueberries and some toast with lots of margarine and rice and…).
She sees their development from a different angle, sees that the relationship is the most important aspect. Yes, she was eager for Devyn to read and anticipates Matthew’s triumph over letters and sounds, but she is far more aware than I that these are her buddies to watch over, to love and enjoy. I am aware of their wonderfulness, of how important the relationship is between each of my boys and I and I think I do pretty good, but it’s so easy to accidentally slip in the mire of daily chores, wet beds, meal preparation and clean up, laundry to collect, wash, fold and hang, our home school, and the dynamic between the boys on difficult days. I get jumbled and impatient sometimes. When I feel it coming on, the need for a break, I call my mom for help and whenever she possibly can, she steps in and assumes her natural role. She goes on “grandma duty.”
So I thank God for the friendship my mom has with Devyn and Matthew.