BEING A GRANDMOTHER NEVER GETS OLD

I played golf last week and my friend Anne Raynor was in the foursome. But we didn’t talk about errant bunker shots that went awry or Tiger’s long recovery.

Instead, Anne and I oohed and aahed while looking at iPhone photos of two-week-old Ruthie, her first grandchild. Smiling blissfully, Anne told me, “I can’t wait for her to visit next week. I get to babysit for a couple of hours!”

That night I received a text from Maddie, my fabulous 15-year-old granddaughter who lives in Portsmouth.  “Grandma, I miss you! Can we have lunch on Friday?” I immediately texted YES WE CAN!!! accompanied by dozens of heart emojis, rainbows, suns and happy faces. Like Anne, I couldn’t stop smiling.

Because being a grandma never gets old. Or boring. Or anything short of wonderful. I’m constantly amazed at my four grandchildren’s fearless spirits and exuberant energy. Sometimes I feel like a voyeur. I never tire of watching them build lego spaceships or spiking a volley ball or marching in the high school band. 

I know what Anne is about to enjoy with Ruthie — her first Christmas, her first little tooth, her first stop-and-start wobbly walk as Ruthie lurches towards the sofa. Anne might attend ballet and piano recitals, swimming and golf lessons, maybe even a Brownie Fly-Up ceremony.

Just yesterday, it seems, then nine-year-old Maddie donated her long blonde hair to Locks of Love. Another day I was sitting on a metal bench in the gym when she made her first “three” on the basketball court. I treasure a note which read, “Thank you, Grandma, for the sweater you knit. Love, Maddie MacCannell.” (As if there were another Maddie in my life!)

So I’ll have to remind Anne she’s gonna need Kleenex. It’s no coincidence that I’m known as Grandma Waterworks. 

And now, suddenly, overnight, Maddie is 15.  She stands six-feet-tall. She’s full of silly sass and she’s pretty as a picture. She’s thoughtful and kind, a hard-working student for whom B’s are not good enough. She coats her eyelashes with light brown mascara and puts tiny fake diamond earrings in recently pierced earlobes.

During our lunch we talked about volleyball tryouts, basketball practice for her traveling team, and her summer job as an usher at Portsmouth’s Prescott Park. I learned every class she’ll take as a sophomore starting in September. When I asked about boys, she said, “Grandma!  No way!” (That’ll change.) 

And then she insisted on picking up the lunch tab. “Grandma, I get a pay check!”

Many years ago a dear college friend told me, “When I had my first grandchild, it was like ‘first love.’ I thought about her all the time. I stared at her photo. I hoped the phone would ring so I’d hear something about her.”  

I feel that way about each of my four grandchildren, and imagine I always will. So I know Anne has a lot more ahead of her than “babysitting for a few hours.” It goes fast. Savor every moment!