Mothers and Grandmothers

Lately I've spent a lot of time thinking about the relationships between mothers, grandmothers and grandchildren.  My mother-in-law died about 15 months ago, my mother died in August, and my newest grandchild, James, was born on September 30th.  So whereas I had been feeling like the "sandwich generation" (grandchildren were being born and both our mothers were still alive but needed much more care than in the past), now I realized that the top part of my sandwich was gone.  And then I realized that I was now the top part of my own sandwich.  If that makes any sense.

I never realized how much I would miss Tom's mother and my own, until they were gone.  My mother-in-law died unexpectedly last year.  In cleaning out her closet I discovered that we wore the same size shoes, so I kept several pairs of her shoes.  When I wore her shoes, I thought of Pat.  She was such a wonderful, loving, calm and patient person.  Now every day I strive to be more like her.  Just last week I noticed that her walking shoes I've worn for the last year are finally worn out.  I think those worn out walking shoes will become my garden shoes, so I can continue to be reminded of her and her wonderful outlook on life.

By the time my mother died I had helped her sort through her things a few times.  Stuff had gone to Goodwill, been thrown away and given away and stored away.  I've kept a few small pieces of costume jewelry, and always think of her when I wear them.  The real legacy I have from her final illness time, is becoming closer to my brother and sister.  And of course she shaped my whole life:  she was Scout leader, cheered me on in the kitchen, made my prom dresses, was room mother, sent me to college, planned my wedding and babysat with her first grandchild, my son, Matt.

With all four of our parents dead, Tom and I are now the patriarch and matriarch of our families, both being the oldest children.  Boy, if you think "Grandma" makes someone sound old, try "Matriarch".  But I'm not complaining; it's better to be the oldest than not to be here at all.  Especially when you have the honor of meeting your grandson, James, for the first time.

It's so true that you forget how tiny newborn babies are!  When I heard James weighed in at seven and a half pounds, I thought, "Well, he'll be a big baby..."  Well of course not, he's a tiny little guy who sleeps with both his hands up in the air, like babies do.  He gets very angry when you're changing his diaper, and would like to pee on you or on his own clothes while he's getting changed, and very often does.  He gets the hiccups and they occasionally just rattle his whole little body.  But in general he eats well and seems to digest well.

He likes listening to his grandmother sing (or maybe he's just amazed at the temerity of someone with an average voice warbling away), and he stares at her and gets very quiet and seems really to listen.  This is an excellent quality in a French child, because French families all know lots of songs and sing them together as families whenever they can possibly work them in.  Once, Jeanne's family asked us what songs families in the U.S. would sing together; after explaining that Christmas songs were about the only ones traditionally sung by families, we got some very sympathetic and pitying looks.  Tom and I have since learned snippets of traditional French songs so when we're hiking or gathered around the dinner table and the singing breaks out, we cheerfully mouth a few words and smile through the rest.

I'm going to enjoy getting to know James.  I can't wait to hear what Juliet has to say about him.  She is growing up so fast that it's kind of nice to have a little baby around again.