Got It From My Momma: Grandma
My mom moving in was never the plan. So when I called her about coming to meet Skylar after she was born, I also asked her if I could book her a one-way flight to Florida… For now… “You know…” Until we figure it out…
“Yes.” She halted her job interviewing process, packed her bags and was on her way to holding her first grand baby. Without hesitation, she dropped it all and got on the plane. Mind you, my mother isn’t the type of grandma that you may be used to: a gentle, graying lady sipping tea and baking cookies from scratch. She’s a high-energy, strong-minded woman that can still walk in stilettos better than I ever could and who would rather build a fire pit under the moon with her barehands than go on a dinner date. And it would not be unusual to find her in the kitchen at midnight tossing stir-fry with one hand and a glass of red wine in the other as she talked about fruit trees and Feng Shui. Her windows were always open to welcome the breeze and her friends stopped by often.
She stayed for weeks. Her visits got longer. We didn’t quite figure it out. And before you know it, she had her own bedroom, bathroom, a closet full of clothes and she was helping us raise Skylar.
“When Skylar starts daycare, you can go back home if you want, Mom.” But then I got pregnant with Maverick.
“Well you can probably go home when Maverick goes with Skylar.” But then I got pregnant with Naomi, and I paused on making any plans for her to go home until I had a birth control plan.
By now, it has been over 2 years since my mom moved in and living with her as an adult has been its own experience. I think we can all agree that when your mother or mother-in-law or any family member in fact moves in, the entire family dynamic changes. Initially, and til this day, my mom moving in has been the biggest blessing and the best help that I could ever ask for. She cooks. She cleans. She changes diapers with love. She reminds me to nap. And occasionally, she packs me lunch (this must be what having a wife feels like). I was a new mom with a newborn and she was my village.
As the journey unfolded, I found myself fascinated that, as a direct product of her, how different we were and our approaches to motherhood. I also realized that she, my husband and I were all co-parenting. That means that more frequent than not, it’s two against one on any given baby issue which can create some tension that we all needed to learn to cope with. These baby issues can be literally be anything and we can go around in circles about everything….
Sixty-nine degrees is too cold, setting the thermostat to 70 is better.
How much TV is too much TV? Is it okay to lean on Cocomelon?
Skylar’s teeth might rot from the bottle but she might not grow without it.
At what temperature does Maverick prefer his milk? Warm, cool or chilled.
Where is Naomi?
Is the diaper too big or are the clothes too tight?
Bedtime is 645pm. Actually, it’s between 630p and 7p.
Who forgot to turn on the dishwasher filled with a dozen bottles and sippy cups? We can fit more dishes.
Let them run barefoot outside. They need new sneakers for running around.
At the beginning, I was the messenger. Ricky asked me to ask my mom…. My mom asked me to ask Ricky… Fill in the blank. “What does your mom want for dinner?” “Mom, what do you wanna order?” “A salad is fine.” “Did you hear her babe?” “What does she want?” “Order her a salad.” We would all be in the same room but the communication still went this way. Ricky on the couch looking at me on the floor and me turning around to my mom sitting in the chair. One could even argue the distance between the couch and chair was closer than I was to either one of them. It was getting ridiculous so I started bridging the conversation. “Ricky, did you hear my mom? Tell her what you want to do about dinner.” For simple stuff, my husband and my mom had to learn to talk to each other. It sounds so basic but it was something they had to get comfortable with especially if I wasn’t home.
Another difference that revealed itself was our perceptions of urgency in response to the babies. If we were police cars, my mom is speeding down the highway with her sirens alarming, I am driving with my lights flashing but no noise and my husband is still parked getting ready to shift gears. I had to encourage my mom to slow her roll or else we would constantly be in overdrive and run down. The toddlers will be just fine waiting for me to put the clothes from the washer into the dryer before I unwrap their 10th piece of chocolate. Crying for a minute or two over anything is not going to create lifelong deficiencies. They will be alright. On the other hand, I needed a push here and there to take some things more seriously. Perhaps calling the pediatrician isn’t always an overreaction and trying to make it home for bedtime is more important to them than I thought.
The disagreements went on. She wants to buy toys, I want that money in a 529 instead. No dolls in the house until someone can ask for one. She thinks they need a continuous source of food all day. I want them to have snack time and meals. I set the Roomba to run at nap time, she shuts it off. Their daycare teachers aren’t good enough but we all need a break. And yes, I’m working again this weekend but our bills need to be paid.
Despite the differences, we can usually both appreciate the ambience a few minutes after the kids go down. We clean up the kitchen uninterrupted and my mom can finally shower. Then pour ourselves a glass of pinot noir (sometimes a tequilla shot depending on the level of fussiness) and laugh about the chaos and the cuteness. Then when we really need a break from each other, I have a week off every month where I catch up with my babies and my mom heads to her beach home.
On the flip side, once I go back to work, the load of responsibilities can take over and I loose sight of my gratitude. I snap at her for something small and she snaps right back. Lack of sleep, screaming babies and a little stress can make for a lot of irritability. “The kids really missed you this week, Felicia.” “What am I supposed to do?” And I feel inconvenienced with a sense of guilt that I typically don’t entertain #momguiltstrike.
Once I recognize this spiral gaining momentum, I’ve started taking time to analyze why we are the mothers we are and remind myself of who we are.
My mom was a single mother to 3. If there is one thing I know, it’s that Superwoman comes second to Single Mothers. And not only was she a single mother but she was a single, immigrant, teen-aged mother with no support system and hardly a dime. So what do you give your children when we have nothing? Answering that question for her and becoming a mother myself provides the explanation behind her actions and her beliefs. It helps me understand. You give them patience, attention, forgiveness, support and surrender yourself for their well-being. You love them without boundaries and nothing else comes close. Nothing else deserves a second thought. That’s why it was so easy to board that plane without hesitation and be there for me. It’s also why seeing her grand babies cry is synonymous to the sky falling and hearing them laugh is (almost) better than winning the lottery. That’s how she loves as a mother and as a grandmother. When I look at myself, my sister and brother it’s proof that it was not only enough but that love in its purest form is enough.
One generation later, her daughter becomes a millennial mom who is at eye-level with Superwoman. I search within to understand my own ways and ask myself the same thing under different conditions. So what do you give your children when we have everything? I give them example, opportunity, inspiration, motivation and freedom. Sometimes that means trading bedtime with hard work and snuggles with ambition but in the long run, this is what I feel is important for them.
In combination, our perspectives and values as mothers balance one another. One way or another, every difference and disagreement comes from a place of love. At the end of a day with 3 babies under 3 years old, I know my best qualities as a mother are those I inherited from her. We serve the same purpose but we don’t fill the same role. After all, she is Grandma and I’m Mommy, even if every kid goes through a few months thinking that my mom is their’s. So I just have to let her be Grandma. And maybe that means her job is to spoil them with toys and my job is to build their college fund.
