Raising Babies

I was a matronly 19 when I got married.  Eighteen months later (just for the record) but still just 20, I became someones Mommy.  Ditto at 21.  My third son, though didn't come along until I was 24 - almost ancient!  In oh, so many ways, I was a baby raising babies.  Having lived through it (and having no idea what it would be like to have babies at thirty-something), I have to admit that young and dumb has its advantages.

We couldn't afford an baby monitor, but then, we were blissfully unaware that we might need one.  Our baby boys rode in car seats - until about age two.  The laws were different then, and again, our ignorance kept us blissful.  BTW, car seats stayed in the car.  They did not disconnect for carrying; we just carried the baby.  Trust me, baby blues squirmed a lot, but at least they weren't as heavy without all that extra armor.

I remember going back to my 10 year high school reunion.  While everyone showed off baby pictures, my kiddos' pictures showed them with backpacks, hiking off to school.  Many of those same friends are just starting round two (or hoping to start round two), while I enjoy 8 grandbabies.

And enjoy, I do!  I love being young enough to sit on the floor, the base of a pyramid of grands.  There is nothing like having minis all want to sit on your lap, and not recognizing turns - or a full lap.  There's always room for one more, right?  (For the record - no, not always.)  I enjoy piggy back rides, being the designated piggy, notwithstanding.  I can't wait to see the latest hot wheels or book or game or animated video.  I want (stopping just barely short of demand) hugs and kisses from all assembled under 5' tall - all at once if possible!  I'm ok with closing the front door by falling against it in a fit of youthful exuberance.  I'm glad I get to be one of the exuberant, even while being over-run with it.

I have learned a few lessons along the way, and feel it only fair to pass along the wisdom.  First, when making cookies with more than one grandlove, have everything premeasured.  It minimizes the I-want-to-help mess, and it keeps you closer to the mixer's on-off switch (a definiate plus).  Second, it's ok to say "no" when necessary, just don't expect anyone to listen (at least it rarely works for me).  And finally, the only time better than showing up to the aforementioned stampede at the front door, is the reverse several hours later.  This Granma is not a total fool!  I love the comfort and quiet of my own bedroom.

Yep, I'm Granma - my great reward for withstanding their fathers as teenagers.  Life is good.  In fact, life is excellent!  That's what being in love will do!