It takes a village they say to raise a child. Each age and stage brings with it new challenges and opportunities to learn from each other. I have six grandchildren, they are three boys and three girls, the girls living here in Christchurch and the younger family of boys in Wellington.
The family of girls is the oldest with the twins getting ready to turn 16 in May. Oh how the time has flown. I remember going through the various stages with them and trying to use the learning I thought I had to inform how I was with the twins. Or ‘the girls’ as we usually refer to them. Which can be confusing, since they have a younger sibling four years younger than them.
I remember the first time I felt – mistakenly as it turns out – that I really tried to apply the learning I had from bringing up their mother and their two uncles. The girls were about two years old and we took them to the park. One of the girls decided to run off. Now, with my kids if I pretended to leave without them, saying ‘OK, see you later, see you at home!’ and started to walk off, within seconds there would be a loud and rather panicked ‘Noooooo” as they ran to us, scared of being left behind. Fast forward to what was to be an epic Nanna fail. One of the girls decided to run off and I did the ‘I’m leaving without you…’ bit, smug as I waited for the expected response.
What happened? Said grandchild, laughed and ran even faster in the opposite direction and I had to get Grampy to chase them, as I was with the other child. So, yes, an epic fail. It just goes to show, that no matter how good a job you might have thought you did as a parent – and let me acknowledge that hindsight wears rose tinted glasses sometimes – it doesn’t necessarily equip you for grand parenting.
So, yes, it takes a village to raise a child and I am trying my best to contribute to raising them as best I can, but my experience is very different to my daughter’s and son’s experience and their children are different people.
At the moment, I am sitting here writing this with one of the twins asleep in the spare room. Her two sisters staying behind for this visit. Me and my girl have made dinner together last night and she has listened to some of my podcasts and seemed to genuinely like them. We had some great conversations about the choices you need to make as you go into adulthood with peer pressure and boyfriends. I shared some things from my teenage years of decisions I had made that I will always regret and I thought it was time to share. I want my grandchildren to know that I am a safe space. Another adult they can trust outside of their Mum and Dad.
I am finding more and more how much I love the young women my oldest grandies are becoming. They are bright and funny and deep thinkers and as they head toward adulthood, I hope that I get to enjoy them perhaps making a family of their own.
Today is baking day. The girl that is staying – let us call her ‘J’ – loves cooking and loves baking particularly. We have baked together since she and her siblings were very young. It is a lovely time to share and talk and listen to music and make yummy baking. It is a time to laugh and make memories. I turned to her yesterday and said to her, ‘please promise me that you will make these things and remember me’ perhaps with your own children. She says she will.
So, the blue folder with ‘Nanna’s baking’ on it, will live on to delight another generation I hope. Perhaps with bake off’s and judging whose is the best and fiercely contested as it is today.
Yes, it takes a village of various ages and stages, mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, grandparents of various types and of course siblings. Each of us brings our own experiences of growing up, sharing those stories as it is appropriate to do so.
The gift that Parkinson’s has given me, is that the time I spend with my grandchildren is even more precious than it was pre diagnosis. I soak up every moment and store it in my memory as I hope they do too! I hope in the future, that these girls – and boys when they are older – will bake things out of that clear file and remember laughing in my kitchen with me.
That they will remember talking to me about boys and dating and all the decisions they bring. About being safe and being true to themselves and choosing wisely, though heaven knows they will not always make the best decisions and choose wisely. That is why I choose to share some of my teenage mistakes with these older girls, to let them know that I made mistakes and wished I had had someone to talk to about them. Someone who would care, but not judge. Share, but not expect them to choose the same path. Listen, but not force them to take my advice, but hope that some of if works for them.
It takes a village to raise a child.
It takes a village to get them through the teenage years.
It takes a village to support them as they enter adulthood.
I hope that I get to be with them through all those stages.
I feel privileged to do my part and hope to do so for many years to come.
My journey with Parkinsons 