Grandma Has Taken on a New Meaning

My husband and I recently became grandparents. At 41. I really didn't see that coming down the pike!  I suppose technically I'm a "stepgrandma" but that's quite a mouthful. I'm fine with grandma, or whatever cute little way our grandson says it. The other grandma (on our side of the family) wants to be called Mamaw, so that's a nice way to never be confused about whom he is talking about. 

I know I'm completely biased, but then what parent or grandparent isn't? This little guy decided his birthday would be six weeks before what the doctor said it should be and was 4 pounds and 7 ounces, 18 inches long. He is the most precious little thing! I happen to love little babies, they are just so adorable! Our daughter was born 5 1/2 weeks early and weighed in at a whopping 3 pounds 13 ounces, our son was only 10 days early and outweighed his sister at 5 pounds 8 ounces. It is just amazing to see perfectly formed fingers and toes and ears and lips and noses in miniature. 

He had some trouble breathing and eating at first, and was transferred to another hospital with a better-equipped NICU. But each day he is doing better and better. The ventilator was removed after a couple of days, today they removed the IV and he is able to breast feed three times a day, although the feeding tube is still in place. If he keeps improving with his feedings and gaining weight, he should be able to come home this weekend. I can't wait for him to be home and his family to all be together. I know how hard it is to leave the hospital without your baby, especially your first one...our daughter was in the hospital for 12 days before she could come home. 

One thing I have really enjoyed is watching his father interact with him. My stepson gets this soft look on his face and you can just see how much he loves his son. It makes me get all verklempt to think about it...I'm even getting all teary-eyed typing this. So many fathers walk out on their kids, especially when they are young and the pregnancy was unplanned. I really believe he is going to be a great dad, and his mommy will be a great mom. They're young and have a lot to learn, but they work well together and they both love their son to pieces. That's a good start! 

My last name is a popular Amish name, although we are not Amish. And when you put Grandma in front of it, it sure sounds old. And Amish. But it's a name I proudly accept! Grandma conjures up images of softness, love, and cookies.

Realizing that I am grandma sure puts a new spin on "grandma" now. I still think of my own grandma, or my mom or mother in law when I think it or say it. And when we're all in a room together it might take me a bit to respond to that until I'm completely used to it. But I'm OK with it. Really and truly...he is such an amazing little guy and I look forward to watching him grow, and watching his parents grow with him. It's a beautiful thing!

The Emptying Nest

I feel funny writing something “empty nest” related. I mean, I’m not even 40 yet and our youngest just turned three. But, as it often is with blended families, we have the whole gamut here in age ranges: 20, 18, 16, 10 and 3.

We’ve had our share of difficulties over the years, some unbelievably hard…the kind that can kill a marriage and rip a family apart. But, by the grace and faithfulness of God we weathered each storm that came our way…unfortunately, not completely intact but still, not completely destroyed either. There is still hope.

Now we are entering into what will be a very long season of nest-emptying. The oldest is moving out by the end of the month. I wish that it was happening under better circumstances, but choices were made and consequences followed as is the way of things. The next oldest, although he doesn’t live with us, is leaving for Marine boot camp (HOO-RAH!!) in September…and going all the way to the other side of the world in California.

All these birdies flying the nest cause me to become quite introspective. As most parents do, I have many regrets. All of our good intentions didn’t always turn out the way we intended. And some of the issues we had to deal with along the way made it excruciatingly difficult to be the parents these fine young men needed. Now, they are about to enter the big, bad world on their own.

They will make their own choices…how much that reflects on us and our parenting skills is not quite clear for me. On one hand, we, as parents, have had set before us the task of teaching them right from wrong and to model how to be a responsible and productive citizen. We should teach them to be compassionate and care for others, to be good stewards of God’s creation, and to have impeccable integrity. When we succeed in those areas, they can learn well…and when we fail in those areas, they learn as well.

Then we have the other hand…

They will make their own choices…

And, chances are, at least some of those choices would not be ones we would make. Or possibly choices anyone should make. These young men are perfectly capable of making good choices and being responsible. Whether or not they do is up to them. It’s hard to let go and let them be themselves.

I am fully prepared to be proud of their successes. That part is very easy. But how will I react…or respond, rather, when they fail? I don’t want to sound like I expect them to fail…it’s just a fact of life that people in general make mistakes and fail at things. And when you’re a young adult out on your own for the first time, the world can be a minefield of potential mistakes. How do we respond when they step on one of those and - God forbid – get hurt?

Natural Consequences are wonderful teachers. They do a better job of teaching than Advice From Parents. I don’t know why I get so irritated when the 20 year old asks for advice then does the complete opposite. But then, the nurturing part of a parent’s heart doesn’t want to see their children get hurt and wants to swoop in and rescue them when they do. It’s so fine, that line between helping and enabling!

Really, the best advice I can  think of is to remember that God is in control all the time. And when His children, which is exactly who our children are, mess up, He is there to gently correct and guide and to bind up the wounds of the brokenhearted. My job as parent will move from taking care of the immediate here-and-now needs…the never-ending need for food and shelter and clean underwear and food (did I mention BOY at all?) to a 24/7 need for prayer and support. The trick is knowing how support without hindering or enabling. For that, prayer is also quite handy…as long as I listen to what God is saying…

And so…while I would be fibbing if I didn’t admit that I’m looking forward to Number One moving out, since we don’t exactly get along famously, still, there is a sense of unease and a sudden desire to protect him building within me. Regardless of our differences and the list of things that annoy us about each other, he is still my family. I still want to see him succeed. I still want the best for him. And I am still grieved by the circumstances that have launched his foray into the big, bad world.

Number Two won’t be leaving for several months yet, and we still have his high school graduation to look forward to, his open house to plan, and a summer to spend with him yet…unless, of course, he is too busy working. But, at least he’ll be around and we can see him more easily than when he’s a zillion miles away in California.

My mind, which contains the vapors of mistakes made mere years ago, takes those memories of failures and hairs-of-chinny-chin-chins and weaves them into what could become in the months and years ahead for these boys. I don’t want them to repeat my own mistakes, or the mistakes of their parents…but I can’t control them and micromanage their lives. They alone must responsibly use and manage the freedom that adulthood brings.

So, for now, I will plan on spending more time in prayer for these young men. And start making plans on what to do with Number One’s room when he moves out…

Boys

Originally, I didn't want to have children. I didn't want to sacrifice my freedom, I absolutely adored sleep, and I didn't want to bring another innocent life into this crazy world. God had other plans in store for me, though!

I now have five kids...three stepsons - 20, 18 and 16...a daughter, 10 and one boy of my very own, who is almost 3. God is funny like that, really.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, and before I knew she was a she, I was pretty sure she'd be a boy, given her father's track record...and his family's, it's just absolutely fraught with boys...in fact, even at the ultrasound I had just before being induced, to see if she was big enough, they said she was a girl. I said "I'll believe it when I see it!" I was so relieved when I saw that she was, indeed, a girl. At that point in my life, I don't think I could have handled a boy.

I didn't really want to have a boy. Boys are strange, foreign creatures. They like dirt, rocks, army men, sticks and guns and noise. I don't really like those things, so how am I to relate to someone who does? How do I get past the rambunctious, infinite energy...the things that get broken...the dirt...

Two of my stepsons live with us, and we have a long, complicated family history. It hasn't always been pretty. We haven't always gotten along so well. But I've been praying for restoration in our family, and for reconciliation between my stepsons and I. That's a tall order, especially at the stage of life they are in now!

And recently, they all had birthdays. This year the idea popped into my head to make them whatever they want for breakfast. Oldest Boy's birthday was on a Saturday, and the way the day went we ended up having his birthday breakfast for supper...but hey, pancakes and bacon from the best butcher shop around is good any time of day!

The next birthday was for Youngest Boy, who turned 16. He wanted cinnamon rolls, hot wings and chocolate milk. So I made cinnamon rolls...that almost didn't turn out, but then ended up being really yummy...and cheated a bit on the wings, I got frozen ones and nuked them. He said that was ok, so I went ahead and took the shortcut.

And Middle Boy, who is a well-known carnivore, wanted steak and bacon and scrambled eggs and cheese. So, I made a New York Strip steak, two pounds of bacon (like anyone else around would stay out of the bacon...had to make sure there was enough!) and scrambled eggs and cheese. His friend joined him and ate the eggs, Birthday Boy was quite full of steak and bacon.

I got some of the best compliments...the youngest one (who told me his friends are jealous because I make him breakfast every morning before school) thought the cinnamon rolls were awesome, when Middle Boy walked in the house (he's the one not living with us), he said after checking out the steak, "Dawn knows the way to a man's heart", Middle Boy's friend said "why can't my mom cook as good as you?", to which Middle Boy said it's because "she puts a lot of love in it."  That really made my day. Because I really did put a lot of love in all three meals. And I meant it.

I realized after reflecting on all this Birthday Breakfast stuff that I felt rather maternal toward them. I'm not actually their mother, and even "stepmother" is more of a title than anything. I wondered if this is how moms with a bunch of teenage boys feel, when they're cooking their sons' favorite meals. It was nice. God has opened my eyes recently to the wonders of my stepsons. They really are terrific young men. I'm glad that God has put them in my life.

And so, this gives me hope for my own son, who is in the same moment endearing and exasperating, loving and annoying, cute and rotten. I still haven't figured out what makes a boy tick, but I know the way to his heart is through his stomach...thank you, Lord, for giving me the ability to cook! And thank you for all these boys in my life, and what I have learned from them...and what I will learn in the years to come. They have added a dimension to my life I never knew existed, and for that I am truly grateful.