From where I sit...

Sundays Never Come

I’ve always heard how great it is to be a grandparent and I am right smack in the middle of knowing why. The more time I spend with grandson No. 1 the more I am learning about life.

Seeing it all from a child’s perspective is an amazing gift. Unless you are walking down the street with a child and really paying attention, you miss so many little miracles. In a very short amount of time the child within begins to emerge with very little notice. All of a sudden you are gasping at the sight of the moon, or a jet air stream, or a dandelion. As you begin the instructions regarding 'wishers' you find yourself believing (and remembering) each and every whim that has ever entered your mind.

Childhood games, stories, and songs come back as if they had been just slightly buried in my brain by all the minutia of life. Our time together is spent shooting hoops, blowing bubbles, drawing pictures, working on puzzles, and spraying each other with the hose. He is never satisfied with a simple "yes" or "no" and almost always follows up with “we can try?!” to which we reply “maybe Sunday”.

He learned very early on that Sunday was a day off for his parents... The connection made and stuck because whenever he asked to do something, or get something, or fix something and they didn’t have the time or the inclination they would say “maybe Sunday." It doesn’t take long for a 2-year-old to make connections. Once he learns the days of the week we’ll all be in trouble but we’ll take that leap when we have to.

Speaking of connections, I’m slowly working on that with grandson No. 2. He’s smiling, cooing, and recognizing familiar voices, faces, and sounds. He had his first outing on the golf course this week and seemed to enjoy the ride as much as his older brother did. He is pretty good natured but appears to have developed a slightly different temperament than we are used to. When he wants something you know about it right away, where Miles seemed to emit more of a transitional warning.

In just a few short years I had almost forgotten about all the little baby steps because I was concentrating so much energy on the child who had become my buddy. My time with baby Jude is spent just trying to entertain him by talking, singing (such as it is), and carrying him around with a bounce in my step to comfort him. He doesn’t seem phased by loud music, television, or animals yet, so apparently he began his adjustment in utero.

He sleeps all night, eats heartily and is trying to laugh... and boy is there a lot to laugh about these days. By the time grandchild No. 3 arrives, he’ll be well on his way to walking and talking, his older brother might be off the 'potty train' and we’ll start all over again.

The beauty of grandchildren goes way beyond 'do-overs', second chances, and even unconditional love. No matter what is causing you stress, concern or even heartache, hearing the little voice of a little person saying “it’s OK” or “look at me” or “I did it!” strips you of just about any narcissistic whining you may have felt entitled to.

After all, I’d be totally naive to believe that there won’t be plenty of opportunities to lament, complain, cry, moan or deal with in the next few decades of watching these angels grow into adulthood. Sometimes it takes a grandchild to make you stop and smell the flowers and boy do they smell sweet at the moment.

~ Karen Balice Gregory