On Gramma-hood and Love

My daughter called me from Italy to tell me I had “jinxed” her. In less than two seconds flat I screamed so loud she could have heard me in Verona without the phone! She and her husband were barely 23 and I was 47…and we were all starting into a journey that would forever change our collective lives.  She was pregnant.

When she was about 8 weeks along, I flew to Italy for a week to visit.  She was beautiful and she still had a flat stomach, but every day I talked to the little “bean”. I told him how much I loved him and that I was his Gramma. She laughed at me and said he could not hear…but I knew he could. The connection was made and we were forever entangled in this messy, beautiful place called love. 

When they got back, she was in her 6^th month and I spent quite a bit of time photographing her bump.  She told me that she wanted me in the delivery room but her husband had not decided on it completely, so I would have to wait and see. I was as patient as I could be but when she was in labor and going into transition, and he still had not decided if I was in or out, I figured I needed to bring it up. I simply told him that she was getting close and I understood if he wanted me to leave but he would have to tell me...soon! Instead, he asked me to stay and take pictures because he realized he could not be with her and photograph the birth too. I was ecstatic, but just kept on trying to help until it was time. I grabbed my camera and witnessed the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

 I had four kids, the first (his mom) was born by c-section and I was asleep…so I missed that one. The others had the rear view mirror thing to look into but I was too busy to notice what was happening, so this birth was a first for me in many ways. When thy put him in the warmer, and put the gook in his eyes, I was right there. He held my finger while I talked to him and took a million pictures of his first few minutes. When he cried, I whispered his name and cooed to him that everything would be fine. I told him how much I loved him and I stayed with him until they could wrap him up and give him to his mommy and daddy. To this day I tell him I was his first friend, while the doctors and daddy were tending to Mommy, I was with him. 

I spent the first week with them to help out and for a year, I came every Friday and stayed the weekend so they could get some sleep and have a date now and then. I still think about those Saturday mornings when he was so tiny. I got to get up with him and just talk to him (and take more pictures) until his parents got up.

 I loved being a grandma, but it took a while before I figured out why I loved it so much. I loved him but it was not the same intense love I had for my own children. I kept waiting to feel THAT feeling…but it never came. One day, I watched my child with her child and I figured it out. Loving him, gave me another way to love HER! Through him, I could continue to be a mom to my daughter, teaching, helping, sharing and growing with her as she learned the very things she had taught me about motherhood and unconditional love. I could show how much I loved her by giving her a night off every now and then, by clapping every time he hit a new milestone and by cheering her on every step of the way as she chartered the murky waters of first time motherhood. Mostly I could be a support in the way that only I could be. She knows I understand everything she goes through as a mom…because she remembers me going through it all those years ago as I navigated first time motherhood with her.

I now have three grandchildren and I can honestly say that the love I have for them is completely unconditional. It is not the same love I have for my own children, but it is pure and sweet and honest. I love watching them run from their parents to me and back again. I delight in their screams of joy when I come in their homes and when my oldest asks me if he can spend the night on school nights, I wish with all my heart he could. I can take it when they cry and I can tell them no when I have to. I spend my weekends and my summers and my vacations watching them, playing with them, taking them places and helping their parents as much as I can…because six years later, the same thing is still true. My love for my grandchildren is another way to show love to the people in my life I love more than anything in this world…my children.

And So it Goes

Last night I cried. I know this does not seem like a big deal....but I almost NEVER cry. Oh, well I cry at sappy movies and when I am reading something particularly beautiful or emotional..and I used to cry when my son told me he hated me and was moving to California (which was the farthest away place he could imagine), and was never coming home. But when real-life pain hits...I simply don't cry. I managed to make it through a divorce after 27 years of marriage and did not cry. Last night, however, I cried.

I am kind of a Billy Joel nut, to put it mildly. He wrote a song in 1983, the year my first child was born, called "And So it Goes". It is a song about recovering from old loves and the pain and risk involved in learning to love again. The following words from the song, hit me in the guts every time I hear it and last night was no exception.
In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along.....
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose  
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break

Sitting on my bed in the quiet dark, I listened to this song for about the 10th time yesterday and this is when the waterworks began. My brain and my heart started quarreling. 

All evening I had been thinking about Aunt Thelma. My Mom's sister was the sweetest woman I had ever known. She made me ugly crocheted slippers for Christmas and made sure to take my cousin and me out for ice cream sundaes to celebrate our July birthdays. Aunt Thelma had a heart of gold and always seemed to me to be bursting with love to give, but inside was a sad woman. She was not physically attractive and if that was not hard enough, she had a pretty severe tick. She married and divorced the same man twice and never had children of her own. I always felt that she never truly understood her true beauty and settled for an unhappy life because she did not think she deserved more. I must admit that there have been many times that I figured I was going to be the next Aunt Thelma. After one failed marriage and with time and gravity beginning to march across my face and my body, I believed that love was not in the cards for me...romantic love that is. I can be a school marm, a sweet aunt and dedicated mom and gramma, but who would want me for a love and lover?

I met someone. Magic happened in many ways. For the first time since long before my divorce, I started to imagine that I could possibly have that fairy tale romance I always believed was only for the beautiful and perfect people in the world. Last night,  as my heart and brain were fighting, I realized I was terrified. Terrified that I might actually give him my "heart to break"...terrified that I might not ....terrified that I would be vulnerable again....terrified that I would be the sweet, sad auntie that never allowed love in. Listening to Billy Joel in the dark, I wept like a baby. My strength gone, my heart open wide and my will to live the rest of my life in solitary bliss, evaporated. I realized that my house, my castle, my sanctuary was empty and the thought that it could be that way forever, broke down my last defenses. I discovered in those moments, that I want to share my room, my sanctuary with someone...and saying that freed my heart in a way I never believed possible.
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows 

My castle doors are flung open, my sanctuary is ready to be shared.  Terrifying, freeing, unbelievable, undeniable. "And so it goes, and so it goes And you're the only one who knows".

closet space

It is almost midnight, soon to be March 31, 2014. I closed on my new home three years ago on this date! I have lovingly decorated every square inch of my castle to reflect my rather quirky personality. My living room walls show off pictures of cockatoos in mirrored frames from the 1940's, my dining room features completely mis-matched chairs and mid-century  modern bookcases turned into hutches....along with a few Craigslist finds. Everything about this home screams that it is Mine, Mine, Mine!

Since my divorce, I have dated a bit. Every gentleman that makes it to my house gets a castle tour. Following the old adage,  " Leave the best for last", the running commentary at tour's end goes something like this.  " This is the reason I bought this house...but wait, before you see the room...look at this closet. It is a double walk-in ...and it is full! No room for anyone else here." After that not so subtle proclamation of my unavailability,  I show off the master suite, and the castle tour is complete.
I generally do the tour right away. This way, boundaries and expectations are set from the start.I can show off the fact that I am an independent woman who is capable,  fine, happy and successful on my own. My date knows the lay of the land in both literal and figurative ways from the first.

Last week, the first fellow in over a year made it to my house. He walked in, strong, confident and handsome, a sight for sore eyes. The air in the house literally seemed to change with his presence. Immediately, he was taken on the castle tour. When it was time to show him " the reason I bought the house", I turned down the hall to my room and went right past the closet to show off the Master Suite. His reaction to my house was delightful. He loved being here, and more importantly, I loved having him here.

The next day, I was at school, my mind was racing through my to - do list during planning time, when all of a sudden I started mentally cleaning out my closet... Woah! Where did that come from? I had never even considered that anyone but me would be a permanent resident in my castle, but for some reason, I was making closet space so someone could be. Most of me was caught completely off guard by this thought. I have to admit, however, that part of me was excited and energized by the possibility of a relationship that could crack open my doors and break down my walls.

It is far too early to know if he is the one who will finally melt my heart and kick down the closet door. It is nice though, to realize that it could happen. After so many years of believing that I would spend the rest of my life as the single queen of my castle, I am starting to feel the urge to begin cleaning out again. Cleaning out my heart, my drawers, my sentimental messy boxes in the garage, my closet....to make room again. He has cracked open my closet door,and I am hopeful!