GRAM ON THE LAM

With two shots of Pfizer or Moderna pulsating through her veins, plus extra N95 masks and Purell spray tucked in her purse, every grandmother I know is hitting the highway to be with her grandkids. Laurel flew from Miami to Montgomery, Alabama. Tammy drove 18 hours from Ft. Wayne, Indiana to Denver. Neighbor Lynn is organizing her toy shelf in anticipation of a visit from her Massachusetts twin toddlers. 

Over the past 14 months, we grandmas have missed ballet recitals, first communions, Sweet 16 celebrations and senior graduations. But the floodgates are opening. The thick ice on Moosehead Lake has cracked. There’s a thaw in the air.  So, armed with chocolate chip cookies and bedtime stories, the grannies of the world are on the march.

Ridgewood, here I come! 

When I texted 13-year-old “Jersey boy" Miles and told him I was looking forward to seeing him play center field this weekend, he shot back an immediate response: “Yea! But no cheering. It’s humiliating.”  Earlier this week, I told 15-year-old Maddie that I would soon be in the stands to watch her shoot 3’s in upcoming AAU basketball tournaments. She said, “Yes!  And when I do, cheer loud!”  

Whatever they want.

I loved my own kids from their first moment in my arms. They were my precious bear cubs. If someone — a friend or teacher or coach or the neighborhood bully — hurt them in any way, I geared up for armed combat. When they doubted themselves or suffered a significant loss — the death of a pet, a boyfriend who found someone new, a college rejection letter — I myself had trouble recovering. When they left my nest for boarding school and college, I counted the calendar days until I’d see them again.

My “kids” are moms and dads now and I gaze at them with affection and awe as they skillfully handle the vicissitudes of parenthood. Sometimes I think they act like helicopters, hovering closely to protect their children. But we all know that life has moments and situations that even an AH-64Apache can’t thwart.  Other times they resemble Zamboni drivers, spotting every bump and crack in the ice and driving that machine 100 mph to smooth the rough terrain. 

I’m always here for advice, if they want it. Otherwise, I’m just a happy  grandma who will sit through all 12 “Star Wars” movies for the second time, blissfully help build the Colosseum out of minute Lego pieces my arthritic fingers can hardly pick up, or sit on a fanny-numbing wobbly wooden bench in a stinky gymnasium. 

A wise person once said, “Just when you think you know all that love is… along come the grandchildren.”  I’m also reminded of words my college friend Lynne Tower Combs told me 19 years ago when my first grandchild Max was born. She said, “Grandchildren are like our first loves. We think about them all the time, we stare at photos of them for hours on end and we hope the phone will ring and we hear from them.”

So please: Do not get in my way. I’ve got hugs to deliver.