PARADE, May 12, 2002

A NEW KIND ON GRANDMOTHER

This Mother’s Day will be a special delight for me. You see, this time I am a grandmother.

Grandparenthood is a defining moment—a grand passage. Yet this is not a role that one can choose, or plan or postpone. It often comes as a surprise for which we are not prepared. There are classes and counseling for just about every role we mortals are expected to assume: premarital counseling, parenting classes, childbirth and so on—but no classes on grandparenting. Grandparenthood happens to you whether you are ready for it or not.

But I’m not ready!
It is not unusual to hear that note of ambivalence from today’s about-to-be grandmas. They look nothing like their own grandmothers did. Don’t grandmas have permed blue hair and half-bushel hips wrapped in aprons? Today’s grandma-aged women are just as likely to have spiky blond hair and hard-muscled glutes wrapped in yoga pants.
The average age of women who were turned into first-time grandmothers in the year 2000 was 47, as estimated from National Center for Health Statistics data. They are the first Baby Boom grannies, and everybody knows the Boomers intend never to get old. They may be divorced and dating, or in a second marriage and just beginning to enjoy child-free vacations. Or they may be working full-time with no retirement in sight. Consider the fact that two-thirds of women between 60 and 64 who are divorced, widowed or not living with spouses are still drawing full-time paychecks. And some are kicking up their heels for the first time.

Marilyn Mason, 68, a footloose writer who leads adventure trips, had just come down from climbing Mount Kilimanjaro when the call came in announcing she was about to become a grandmother.

"I had always thought, when I heard people babbling about their grandchildren. ‘Bor-ing—don’t they have lives?’ "She grins. "Until it happened to me."

When one becomes a grandmother, a whole new valve opens up. "Maybe it’s because we’re not afraid to love anymore," says Mason. We know, by grandmother age, that to feel and show pure love can never hurt us back. Just as grandchildren are completely nonjudgmental on us, we can be utterly forgiving of them. Mason and her first grandchild, Morgan, began a Christmas ritual of making a gingerbread house. When Morgan started a powdered-sugar fight, her new grandmother indulged her until they and the kitchen were white as snow. "I could never have done that with my own children, " says Mason giddily.

For me, as for many parents whose children were born late in the baby boom, the adventure of grandparenthood began only after years of hoping, yearning, hinting, fretting and finally beginning to wonder if I should send my 35-year old daughter adult videos. Of course, the postponement of her first child had nothing to do with the quality of her marriage. It was a result of the enlightenment of young women. Our generation of moms applauded our daughters’ postponement of marital obligations while they completed broad educations and mapped out careers that could take them in many directions. It’s when your childless daughter passes 35 that your inner grandmother begins to experience mild panic.

A year later, on Thanksgiving Day, I was 3000 miles away when I picked up the phone and heard my daughter say, "Happy birthday, Mom. I’m pregnant!" I thought it was the best gift I’d ever received.

But a greater gift was to be admitted to the birthing room while my daughter and her husband, assisted by a midwife, pushed and pulled a 7-pound boy into the world: Declan Sheehy Moss. The price of admission was plainly stated: "Mom, you can stay, but you have to sit down and be quiet."

That was my first important lesson in grandmothering. In this role, we are meant to give support, not advice. Our most important function is simple: To be present. By being present at my grandchild’s birth, I helped to establish the significance of the event. I did not have to say the right thing. I just had to be there to witness my daughter’s strength and endurance—independent of Mother’s help—and to honor her passage into full womanhood.

Grandmothering is a subject that women love to talk about, as I discovered when I brought it up while on vacation at a health spa. The next thing I knew, 30 women had gathered around a breakfast table to compare notes.

"The surprise for me is not being on the front lines anymore," said Terry Romeo Trunnell, 58. "I can just watch the show." What could be more fascinating than watching the development of the new family and picking out the family gene traits as they are expressed in this little creature called your grandchild?

Becoming a grandmother causes many women to blossom, we agreed. Some of us had been so burdened as single or divorced or financially strapped mothers, we didn’t have the chance to be as patient or loving as we wished. The grand stage gives us another chance. We don’t have to "improve" our children anymore. We merely have to accept their fallibility, and our own, and focus together on the wonder of the grandbaby. Grandchildren soften our hearts. They loosen the sludge of old resentments and regrets. It’s a chance for reconciliation between ourselves and our children.

"One of the nicest surprises is watching my daughter do things right," was a frequent comment among the women.

We were surprised and amused by the proliferation of grandmothers and stepgrandmothers produced by divorce and remarriages. As a result, almost none of us want the name "Grandmother." We call ourselves "Nanu" or "Gemma" or "Precious Gemma." My first idea was to be called "Gaga," figuring it would cover me for the senility stage. When my daughter vetoed that, I opted for "Nonnie." Jane Katz, who at 59 is a 31-time All-American U.S. Masters swimmer (her last title won in 1998), was dubbed by her grandkids "Yo, Jane!" The minute she shows up, they shout, "Yo, Jane, let’s swim!" and she’s in the pool, arms extended to catch them as they jump in shouting, "Again, again!"

Only one of the 30 women in our group had lived with a grandchild, and it caused problems. Joan Lightfoot’s pregnant daughter- in-law had been in the process of moving, so Grandma welcomed the family to stay with her e as long as they liked. "Whenever the baby cried and my daughter-in-law looked frustrated, I’d grab the baby, saying, ‘Oh, I’ll take him,’" recalled Lightfoot, 61. "I thought I was being such a good grandmother." One day, her daughter-in-law erupted in tears: "How can you be treating me this way? Don’t you think I’m a good mother?"
"@"

"It had never occurred to me that maybe she wanted to stay with her frustration," said Lightfoot, "so I’ve had to learn to hold back."

We all have to learn how to hold back.

In-law rivalry is another by-product of multiple grandparents—though many grandmothers noted how their daughters and daughters-in-law worked at making them all feel included.

Peggy Wheatcroft, 66, a former hotel proprietress who lives in a small mountain town in Idaho, told us: "The other grandmother was all ready with the crib and the layette. I chose not to compete with that. I decided to wait my turn until my grandson became a teenager." She smiled. "And now I’ve got him—he’s coming to Idaho this summer, and we’ll go whitewater rafting."

Holidays can stir tensions. Who gets the grandbaby on Christmas? The poor parents are torn in different directions. So I’ve decided on a Christmas-in- July policy—or whenever it can be convenient and joyful.

Picking out gifts is one of the great joys of grandparenting. I made a classic mistake on my grandson’s second Christmas. The toy I picked out at a New York toy store was labeled for a 2- to 3-year-old. But my 16-monthold grandson is brilliant, right? Well, he rejected it.

"Let me tell you something, dear," said the platinum-blond saleslady when I returned the gift. "Every grandbaby is brilliant. If he can’t cope with a toy that’s too advanced for him, he’ll reject it. And six months later, when you give it to him again, he’ll remember the frustration and still won’t like it. I can get away with saying that because I’ve been here for 62 years." I looked again at this feisty 5-foot lady in khaki pants. "You’re 62?"

"No, that’s how long I’ve worked here. I’m almost 84." Lillian Heckler, a great-grandmother three times over, smiled at my shock. "I’m everybody’s grandma," she said with a deep-throated laugh. I asked Everybody’s Grandma what makes the best gift. Her eyes danced. "Ribbons and wrappings. That’s what they love best."

Spontaneity is what she was talking about. It’s when you enter your grandchild’s world and let him take you with him. Or her. Whatever transpires in the moment is the magic. At this stage of our lives, we can let a grandchild take us back to one of the greatest delights of childhood—becoming so absorbed in playing a game or flying a kite or blowing bubbles that time passes and we don’t even notice it.

But the greatest gift, I’ve decided, is when that love is recognized. Although my grandbaby always smiled as he glimpsed my face through the glass door of his Brooklyn walk-up, safe in the arms of his father who walked him down the stairs, I was never quite sure if he really knew me. It’s an insecurity not uncommon among new grandmothers. One day in February, when Declan was almost 18 months, he was pulling my credit cards out of my wallet. A police press pass fell out with a typically poor passport photo.

"Who’s that?" my daughter asked the baby. Declan pointed straight at me and grinned. "Nonnie!"

PARADE Contributing Editor Gail