From my blog on www.parentsociety.com
It was Grandparents’ Day on September 9, and I found myself wistfully reminiscing about life with my grandparents.
I remember distinctly the span of time — about a year — when the home
in which I grew up was filled to the brim with grandparents. Along with
my mom, dad, and brother, we lived with my dad’s parents, who were
declining in health. They moved into our family room. My mom’s mom lived
upstairs in a large room. Throw in a cat or two, and our five bedroom,
two-and-a-half bathroom house was full.
I did not necessarily mind the presence of the grandparents. I was
not only a momma’s boy, but I was the apple of my grandmothers’ eyes on
both sides of the family divide. I could do no wrong in any of their
eyes (or that’s what I liked to think.) Unconditional love came into my
life in a feminine form, and I cannot say that I minded it at all. I
rather enjoyed it, and milked it for all it was worth.
My children are now the recipients of grandmotherly and grandfatherly
affection on both their mom and dad’s sides of the family, and they
don’t seem to mind it at all either. They have received their share of
special gifts given to them “just because” and for no other special
reason. My mom has sewed dresses, Harry Potter capes, and knitted
Hogwarts scarves, and has created elaborate quilts for both children’s
beds … all keepsakes. My dad loved to watch movies with the children. He
is well-remembered for watching Mel Gibson’s “Braveheart” with them and
forgetting to fastforward through the bloodiest scenes. The other set
of grandparents are equally guilty for doting on my children, taking
them on cruises to Alaska, and showering them with attention. They’ve
gone on long hikes in the woods and spent time in the kitchen making the
family’s favorite Christmas cookies, an old German recipe passed down
generation to generation.
Read more: http://www.parentsociety.com/todays-family/same-sex-parents/for-the-love-of-grandparents/
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