Daycare by Granny
Take a walk in your neighborhood, or visit your local park and you’ll see us.
We are the grandparents helping to take care of our grandchildren. Instead of Daycare, it’s Grannycare.
You can recognize us by the pure joy, elation, and love that we are feeling mixed with the utter exhaustion we are also feeling, making us look like Zombie extras in the Walking Dead, but happier. It’s an interesting combination that only we grandparents can seem to pull off.
I remember over 30 some years ago when my kids were little and I asked my mom if she would want to help take care of my kids.
“Yes,” she said, “but I can only two days a week. I don’t have the energy to do more than that.”
I remember internally rolling my eyes, thinking to myself, “Oh come on, mom, seriously? How much energy does it take? You don’t work, you’ve got no hobbies and aren’t expending much energy elsewhere, one kid is in school, and one kid goes to pre-school 3 days a week for 3 hours. I am working full time outside the home and raising two kids. That requires energy.”
Now? My thoughts come back to haunt me. I offer up mea culpas to my mother in heaven and light candles in her name. I pray for her forgiveness at my lack of understanding.
Because now I know. Now, I understand what she was talking about. And kudos to her for recognizing the limitations and setting her boundaries.
Ernie and I have been helping to take care of our granddaughter on Mondays and Wednesdays for the past 6 months while they are living with us temporarily. And when I say Ernie and I, I mean me, mostly me.
Not that Ernie wouldn’t be more involved, but Wren is in a “Nonna not Poppy” mode, so until that changes I’m the one changing the diapers, putting her down for her nap, and singing Baby Shark for the hundredth time in a row.
Ernie does do a good job of providing poop alerts, sniffing it out almost immediately and letting me know, with a “Hey, check her diaper I think she pooped.” Kind of like the Weather Channel app alerts letting you know that there’s a flood watch or a severe thunderstorm warning. They simply alert you to what could be happening and it’s up to you to take the appropriate action.
The exhaustion is real. Thank goodness that they aren’t two days back-to-back. The day formerly known as Tuesday, is now known as Recovery Day.
The weekdays around here are:
Watch Wren Day, Recovery Day, Watch Wren Day, Recovery Day, Another Recovery Day, Almost Fully Recovered Day, Fully Recovered Day.
Whew, just in time to start the cycle again.
The energy of a toddler is insane. It’s in direct inverse proportion to the energy of a 63 year old. What’s needed here is some kind of transfusion to occur where-in some of that toddler energy is transferred into the grandparent. Nothing as far as a Freaky Friday occurrence, mind you. Everybody stays who they are, but just some of that energy gets transferred from the one with too much to the one with too little, and then some form of homeostasis can occur.
I know I am not alone in this utter exhaustion experience. I know this because we grandparents talk. We see each other at the park. We stand next to each other at the swings while pushing our little ones. We share knowing looks with each other that say, oh you too?
Our conversations look like this:
Me: Aw, how cute! How old is yours?
Them: 20 months
Me: Oh, mine is 22 months!
Them: How often do you watch yours?
Me: Two days a week
Them: Same
Me: Are you exhausted?
Them: Oh yes, completely. They want me to do 3 days a week but I don’t think I can.
Me: I understand completely
But then? Every conversation ends with, “but I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
So, we inject some caffeine into our veins, take some naps, and count our blessings.
Because it’s true. We wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.