Is becoming a Granny the most natural thing in the world?
Does a Granny immediately feel the re-emergence (or not) of motherly feelings experienced with the birth of her own children?
Despite much reading and talking with friends about this, as with most things, I can only go by my own experience, which ranges from feeling enormously protective to positively determined to absolutely amazed, all dependent of course on the mood and the moment!
So here he is – my gorgeous little grandson (added with permission from his parents) and his doting granny (or ‘Mimi’ in my case, which is Aboriginal for grandmother.
We have a lot of fun together. I looked after the wee lad back in Melbourne for one day a week from age 6-12 months. I had seen him a few times since my son and partner moved back to Broome, but not for any length of time. In this case, it’s now been six weeks since I arrived in this remote but magical part of Australia.
This time though, he is about to turn three years old and Mimi is currently living with the family and having lots of fun experiences!
Already having a good vocabulary, little lad’s favorite choices of words vary, but at least once a day he tells me to “Stop it” when I happen to voice something he disapproves of. Hearing him use the expletive “buggar” I taught him to say “bother” which he pronounces as “bova” often with a sidelong glance at me and a little smirk.
At least once a day he knocks on the door of my room, ready to explore, always looking for the same things as if to ensure I haven’t removed any of them. Clambering up onto the bed he somehow manages to grab hold of things I don’t want him to before I’ve had a chance to move them out of the way. In no time at all the torch light will be shining, my clock will change position, Mimi’s earrings will be grabbed, something will land on the floor, all the while accompanied by confident and quite articulate chatter.
Does this sound familiar to other Grannies?
Ah, but the sweet and tender moments make it all worth while don’t they. The morning greeting “Hello Mimi” accompanied by that huge smile … the staunchly defensive “It’s not your Mimi, it’s my Mimi” to a little mate” … definitely brings out the enormously protective feelings.
Not so the times when Mimi cooks dinner which is quite definitely not going to make it into grandson’s tummy.
Despite my most determined efforts there is abject refusal to swallow even a mouthful, and he becomes a cross little person who says he wants “dinner” of the variety he is used to.
Oh well, I tell myself, he’s only been on this earthly coil for not quite three years and despite the mood and the moment I kind of understand …