Summer Time

The days are longer and the nights are shorter.

Becoming a grandmother has been a surreal experience. I am watching this little tiny girl and I remember her mommy being a little tiny girl, always attached to my breast and with my heart closed up tight in her hands. My daughter made me a mommy. Her birth catapulted me into a new world of sacrificial love and unbridled care giving. I was a nurturing ninja, always standing close by to release a trapped burp, protect against the unsanitary hands of well wishers, and arming myself with Desitin and a diaper wipe after every guttural grunt. I knew my job and I did it well.

But, now I look at this new milestone child, the one who made me a grand mommy, and I not too sure of my role. She already has a ninja as a mommy, (You’ve learned well grasshopper). So, I stand by like a waiter purposely seeking signs of want. “Does she need to burp?”, “Do you want me to take her?”, “Does she need a blankie, baba, or binky?”

As I stand on the side lines, I realize that I am not the star player here. She has her mom and daddy and this is “their” nuclear family. Tiny and new….. and not dependent on me. I am a visitor in my granddaughter’s life, and though her parents would protest such a remark, the fact remains the same, I am not the staple ingredient in this family pie.

I am part of the history of this brood and they are my legacy, but I am not the captain of this ship. That means I share my knowledge instead of making the rules. It means offering suggestions instead of demanding compliance. It means I can teach a song but can’t make them dance to it. I am a “type “of mommy but the “grand” in front of that title makes all the difference.

Summer is my grandbaby’s name. Born in Texas. In July. During a record heat wave. Instead of naming her “Sizzler”, as I suggested, they chose a more appropriate name.

The days of summer are longer than the nights. That means you have more time to do things and to see things before the sun goes down. That thought gives me comfort. Though my mother role has changed, I recognize that I am in the summertime of my life. I am in a wonderful season. When I was a young mother, and with all I had to do, there was not enough hours in the day. But in this season, my days are longer; the clock tics slower. I will have time to chill. I can lick ice cream cones and make castles out of bed posts, broom sticks and sheets with my little princess. I can laugh when the meatloaf burns as I tell her it’s the extra crispy variety. I will have time to absorb her smiles and tears. And I will say, “Humm” before I answer all one hundred and fifty questions she can ask in a day. I can sit back and watch her grow…so “full grown” can’t sneak up on me like it did with her mother.

Summer is the time to enjoy the harvest God has allowed us. My Summer is here and with her comes a new me; a new relationship and a new season.