Any one who’s been a parent for more than five minutes knows that you soon learn to revel in the great times, as there are inevitably plenty of others where you wonder what on earth you are doing and if you’re ever going to get it right. Recently I’ve had a full month of good stuff, and I’m still basking in the memories.
I’ve heard a lot about how blissful grandchildren are – and I’m sure that’s true. What you don’t hear as much is how satisfying it is when your kids become adults and you realise that despite your bumbling efforts, they have grown into decent human beings.
After years of babies and precious little sleep, the exhaustion of toddlers and the challenge of teenagers, I feel as though I’m emerging on a plateau of sanity. The kids are all grown up. They are good company, they are doing good things. They are completely different from each other, utterly themselves. Crumbs, I even love their partners.
My years as a mum have mostly been happy ones. Healthy kids, supportive husband, friends and local community. But over and over I felt that I was getting it wrong. I yelled, I resented, I manipulated. All that stuff. These days it’s much less complicated, much less demanding.
This last month I’ve been struck in a fresh way by the pleasures of having a grown up family, as we’ve had three generations in residence. My octogenarian dad and step-mum have been visiting from Scotland for a month, mainly staying with us. It has been a joy having oldies in the house. They are delightful – funny and engaged, affectionate and smart – and our kids adore them. Our two sons have lived in the UK this year, partly to be close to their grandpa.
During their stay I took them to spend a weekend with our oldest and her partner who live in the country and Dad got to see a grandchild in situ – her own home, job, life and way of doing things. As I watched our daughter cooking glorious meals for her grandparents, taking them around, showering them with appreciation and time, I felt that life couldn’t get much better than this.
At home, our youngest, who was a bit of a ratty teenager last time dad was in the country, spent hours sitting on the sofa chatting to them, making the most of their company and letting them into her world. To have a generation each side of me enjoying each other seems to be as much as anyone could ask for in this life.
Of course, the down side of them living in Scotland is putting them on a plane at the end of their stay. Every time I do it I wonder if it will be the last. But the evening when they left, I was struck by the general mood at our place. We were matter of fact and sincerely cheery. I think there comes a stage where, even more strongly than feeling sad about their going, I just feel thankful for the bonus of these years.
Anything could happen of course. Accidents, illness, the ravages of age, even fallings out. I know that. All the more reason to rejoice in the good stuff.