Spinalectomy

It’s a little less than two months until Griffin’s sixth birthday, so we still have quite a ways to go before he finishes high school, college, medical school, and then gets married.  Still, I have this growing sense of dread about when he and his wife have their first child, because I know it will be time for Tamara and me to get our spinalectomy done.  This is apparently a process that every new grandparent undergoes in which the spinal column is removed so that the individual loses all ability to say ‘No’ to their grandchildren.

I had back surgery last year, and it was an unpleasant experience.  But I’m pretty sure this isn’t the same type of surgery.  I don’t recall my parents ever going into the hospital for it, yet the mountain of evidence is undeniable.  No request from the grandchildren is too large for them.  For instance,

My Boys: Pa, will you take us on a ride across the frozen tundra? 

My dad: Sure, Just let me go get the tractor warmed up!

Another example, 

Griffin: I want to sleep at your house.

Mammy: I’m sorry honey, you have school tomorrow.

Griffin (turning on the tears): But I just want to sleep at your house.

Mammy (to me): Let him spend the night.  I’ll take him to school tomorrow.

Maybe it’s not that they can’t say ‘No’, they just make it a personal challenge to never actually do it.  And I must admit that being at the grandparent’s house has a positive effect on them.  For some reason they will do things there that they won’t even attempt at home (like using the potty, eating grilled cheese sandwiches, etc.).

But if you think grandparents are peculiar in their ability to avoid the N-word, you haven’t seen anything yet.  I’m talking about Great-Grandparents here.  The other night, my grandmother watched the boys while we met with Griffin’s Kindergarten teacher.  When we made it back to her house, we saw the two kids playing outside in their long-sleeve shirts.  Upon going inside, we asked why they didn’t have their coats on.  Her answer was, “Well, they wanted to go outside, and they haven’t been out there very long.”  Then she proceeded to tell us, “They were hungry so I gave them a popsicle and some cookies.”  Why did she give them junk food?  Because that’s what they wanted.

I don’t know what process they go through that turns an adult from a responsible authoritarian into a weak-kneed grandparent, but it seems to be an almost universal rule of nature.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way…okay, maybe with a little less sweets right before bedtime, but other than that…

Grandparents

Grandparents are a wonderful thing.  My kids think the sun rises and sets on their grandparents.  Any time the phone rings, and they get a hold of it before we do, you can tell who’s on the other end of the line.  If the first words out of my son’s mouth are “Can I come to your house,” you know it’s one of his grandparents.

I don’t know about Tamara’s mother, but mine has lost all ability to say “No,” when it comes to her grandkids.  Her backbone has definitely softened since I was a kid.  It doesn’t matter if she’s recovering from a surgery or just got back off a 14-hour plane ride.  If those babies want to come to her house, then we need to bring them.

I’m happy that the kids enjoy spending time with our parents, but sometimes it makes you wonder about how good a job you’re doing with them.  A Friday or so ago, Griffin and Gage stayed with my mom and dad.  When I went to pick them up on Saturday, they cried as if I were dragging them back to shackle them to the grinding mill in our dungeon.  Finally, my son blurted out, “I want to live here.”  I was taken aback for a moment before I asked him, “You want to live with Mammy and Pa?  You don’t want to live with Mommy and Daddy anymore?”

My son, ever the diplomat and quick thinker replied, “You can move in too.”

That made me feel a little better.  He didn’t want to sever ties completely with us, just spend more time with his grandparents.

I remember how I loved to stay with my grandparents when I was a little kid.  We only lived three houses away from them, but it was great fun to pack my little suitcase and go down to Grandma’s house for the night.  We’d eat snacks and play cards or dominoes.  If it was early evening, we’d all sit out under the walnut tree in the swing and watch the bats fly around the yard. 

I loved getting to take a bath in Grandma’s tub while the gas heater kept the bathroom nice and toasty.  Then, grandma would pull the hide-away bed out of the sofa and I’d lie down for the night, listening to Grandpa snore loud enough to shake Grandma’s bell collection.

I think the time that my kids get to spend with their grandparents has a large effect on their attitudes and outlook on life.  The unconditional love they receive reaffirms their self-worth and builds their confidence.  I don’t think our kids would be the same if it wasn’t for the time they spent with our parents.  And I’m thankful for that.

We also get to hear the funny stories where our kids are just being themselves.  Like how Griffin wanted to stay up and watch a movie so they could eat popcorn and cucumbers, and how Gage won’t sleep anywhere, except in the floor of Mom and Dad’s walk-in closet.

Yeah, Grandparents are great.