To Grandmother's House We Go

Narcissistic grandparents. That's an oxymoron, right? I wish.

The first time my mother watched my children was a month after my father died. My father hated children so even had she wanted to watch them, it simply wasn't a possibility. They were 2 and 4 years old. She actually offered to watch them. It was only for a few hours while I went out to dinner. On returning I find out that she allowed them to watch a movie I specifically told her I didn't want them to see. She explained that they saw the video case so she *had* to let them see it. Not wanting to make a scene in front of my children, I mumbled an "uh-huh" and said my good-byes. Of course, she couldn't let it go at that. She followed us outside and made a big show of telling the children that I was unhappy with Grammy because she had let them watch the movie. It was the perfect end of me ever leaving the children with her.

My father, on the other hand, didn't bother to put on the allusion that he was their grandfather. He talked to the children only when reminded to say goodbye. He picked each child up once on the prompting of someone else. He made absolutely no attempt to have anything resembling a relationship with them. They were of no value to him. They only served to take the attention away from him or to annoy him by making noise. He literally sulked in a corner when we combined the celebration of one child's birthday with his.

Whenever I hear a grandparent lovingly describe spending time with their grandchild I can't keep my eyes dry. A few Sunday's ago, our pastor talked about a grandchild due not long in the future. He spoke of loving the baby, of holding the precious baby in his arms and getting to know the child, of watching the child grow and develop. What a wonderful gift for a child to have. I can't help but feel sad that my children don't have that same blessing.