‘I’ve waited 15 years for this moment’, my
mum said excitedly when she gave my, at that point, nine-month-old son, Stefan,
and his one-year-old niece, Marie, a pink cardboard box each. What she meant
was that my brother and I had kept her waiting for a decade and a half for her
to finally become a fully fledged member of the exclusive of all clubs: The
Club of Grandparents. Ever since she and my dad had been informed of their
future new titles, she had taken every opportunity to refer to herself as
‘mormor’ (maternal grandma) or ‘farmor’ (paternal grandma). My dad on the
other hand didn’t seem to have a need to make any amendments to his current
titles.
The build up to this pivotal moment had
reached its crescendo in the weeks leading up to our visit to my home shores.
Every Skype-call had ended with my mum exclaiming how much she looked forward
to the moment the two cousins saw each other as this was to be their first
meeting. What she had imagined, I’m not sure. How do two nappy wearing,
crawling babies normally react to being introduced, independently of whether
they share parts of the same DNA pool or not? Was it likely that they would
recognize their genetic similarities, grasp each others drool covered hands and
shriek wildly (but at an acceptable level)? Well, that’s not exactly how it
played out. Basically, Stefan ignored Marie and was a lot more interested in
the new toys that were surrounding them and Marie didn’t seem bothered that her
presence didn’t cause a stir of emotions in her cousin. I’m still not sure what
my mum expected, but I think they both passed her ‘cousins’ first meeting’
test.
When the moment finally arrived and my son
took off the lid of the pink box, out fell a small plastic truck and a knitted
ball with a bell inside (a bell that didn’t make ‘too much noise’, as my mum
explained). I, perhaps a little bit sarcastically, asked if she’d kept those
trucks hidden for fifteen years, and she replied with a little laughter that
no, she’d just bought them yesterday. The two cousins showed far more interest
in the pink bows, which had been intricately tied around the boxes – at some
point I even got Stefan to wear his as a butterfly – than the contents. (Even
the woollen balls with the quiet bells didn’t catch their attention.)
Back to the Club of Grandparents. My
brother and I were 38 and 40 years old respectively, when we granted our
parents access to this reverent club. At this point my parents were the only
couple among their circle of friends, who didn’t have any grandchildren. It didn’t
matter anymore how my brother and I were doing, which jobs we had, if we were
or weren’t in a relationship, no, the number one topic of most conversations,
as far as I understood, centered around grandchildren. Even though they (or
mainly my mum) never specifically said anything about the tardiness with which
my brother and I found lasting relationships, it was still there between the
lines, when my mum told us about another future grandchild who’d chosen some of
their friends as grandparents. I know for sure they’d (she’d) given up on my
ever granting them this ultimate gift when I broke up with a longterm boyfriend
at an age where most women’s eggs were outnumbered by their age. Luckily
Eastern Europe came to save the day in both mine and my brother’s case (my
husband is from Romania, my brother’s wife from Ukraine).
Where it’s obvious how much it’s meant to
my mum to finally being able to talk about and show pictures of HER
grandchildren, my dad seems to be a lot more, what can I saw, DOWN-TO-EARTH about
these new additions to the family. I think the only change he’s made to his
life is that he’s bought a child seat for his bike and a helmet, so he can take
Marie on small bike rides in the area. My mum, on the other hand, started
telling all her friends that from the day her grandchildren were born, she
would prioritise them over anything else, hence any arrangement she made with a
friend, could be cancelled at a moment’s notice, should her grandmother skills
be needed. She also informed me that her services would be available within 24
hours – she’d checked out various flight connections and worked out that this
timescale would be doable.
It’s lovely to have such devoted
grandparents and I know that they (my mum in particular) wish that they lived
closer by. Luckily they see my brother’s daughter on a weekly basis and with
Skype and email it’s much easier to keep in contact than it’s ever been before.
Yes, Stefan also has a ‘farmor’, my
husband’s mum, who’s as excited about him as his ‘mormor’ is. But she is it in
a more contained way. It doesn’t bear thinking about two grandmas sharing
my mum’s level of excitement…
