Generational Learning

Celebrations were in order tonight because not only is Bell, my grand daughter, tinkling on the potty regularly, but she pooped on the potty tonight! Of course, Bump, my grandson, is waaaayyyyyy past all this, having conquered this years ago.

I made a chicken stir fry with lots of veggies tonight to go with some spaghetti squash and an impromptu fruit salad. Bell, I'm sure, ate the equivalent of an entire chicken thigh and a whole kiwi. "More chicken, please, Nana Foo."

Meanwhile, Bump had a hard time. The stir fry looked "gross" and he's having a hard time eating anything but a few standbys. At one point, after being sent to the time out chair for making such a fuss, he very eloquently expounded, with a perfect command of dramatic exaggeration, how no one wanted him or cared about him anymore because, "Oh, yeah, that's right, the new girl is here."

My first reaction was amazement at how Bump commands language to control things. Boy howdy, does he ever. Then I realized the explosion had brought a tear to his mama's eye and I remembered how I'd have felt hearing this from one of my babies. I'm sure I heard things like it many times, actually.

.

I didn't know whom I wanted to hug more. Bell, for eating her dinner so well (and soaking in all the praise for so doing), Bump for such an excellent display of command of the nuances of language, or Devin, for feeling hurt by it.

Of course, I wasn't hurt by his comments that my food looked "gross." He's a five year old boy, who really wanted a visit from the neighbor kids, and whose Nana had just arrived. I just said, "Hard cheese, old man. Eat your dinner." And with some airplane maneuvers and extra attention from Nana, he did. In one of those moments of communication using only eye contact, he knew I had him pegged. A tacit understanding took place.

It's impossible to know, as a mother of small children, that one isn't ruining her child, especially when the child is as articulate and manipulative as my grands are. And I don't mean "manipulative" in a bad way. It is their job right now to learn to manipulate and to live in harmony in their environments.

I never spanked my babies, and my grands aren't spanked either, though I'm not sure that by the end of my stay here, one or the other might experience a slight swat to the butt. I would never hurt them, of course, but I would get their attention. I have the luxury of knowing that they are a a heck of a lot more resilient than parents can realize.

Heck, I'm still neurotic over what may have been poor parenting on my part when my kids were little. But I have no doubt at all that Bump and Bell have excellent parenting. Devin and Tim are often at a loss of knowing how much is too much to take, and when to say when. The fact that they question it and that it is of extreme importance, is what matters. They are tireless in their exhaustion in a way that only parents can understand.

Bump and Bell have no doubts about being loved. (Although Bump knows enough about psychology to know that suggesting he feels loved less than his little sister just might get him a hot dog instead of what's been served for dinner. (Well, it was worth a try, even though it didn't work.)

He knows his word are powerful and as he grows, he'll learn how to use the force for good, I'm sure. But for now it's a balancing act.

I know there is no way I can make my daughter realize what a good mother she is. Why should she believe me? But I know, and her children know. To be a parent is to have ones heart broken. But it's also to have ones heart swell with a sort of love that is indescribably. It's always worth it.

To be a Nana, on the other hand, is to experience the fun and the joy with a fraction of the angst. It is truly a reward for having lived through parenthood.

My babies are perfect. I am so grateful to have this time with them.