by Carol Smock

Created on: April 16, 2010

Always Try to Fall on the Grass: the Benefits of Being Mia

I wasn’t ready to be a grandma. My daughter was only eighteen, and the father didn’t want to marry her or to take part in parenting her child. But then, she was there and I was overwhelmed with tenderness for this tiny new human being.

The day Cloe was born, I locked my keys in the car. Three times. In our small town, the police would come and open the car door. The third time I called they said, “Lady, maybe you should just go home for the day.” I went back to the hospital instead.

Grandparenting is just plain fun. Cloe and I have had great adventures together as she has grown up. Since her mom was single, my husband and I took a fairly big role in bringing up the little one. We were there to babysit when Kimberly had to work and the day care center was closed. We watched her on weekends when Mom just needed a break. I visited her in the day care center and read books to the class.

When she was just learning to talk, Cloe pointed to me one day and said, “Mia.” We didn’t know anyone named Mia, and have no idea where that came from. But I’ve been Mia ever since.

When Cloe was two, she “helped” me around the house. She would toddle to the cupboard with a can of soup or beans and say “Dood djob” as she placed it on the shelf.

When Cloe was four she decided I needed a guardian and appointed herself. She would guide me around the art building where her mom was working on a project for school. She’d take my hand on the stairs so I wouldn’t fall down.

I was visiting their apartment right after Cloe had gotten her first pair of roller skates. She donned her helmet and knee pads to demonstrate how to use them. Leading me outdoors, she advised, “The sidewalk is hard, Mia. The grass is soft. Always try to fall on the grass.”

I always had art work for my office, and framed some of the pictures to keep. When co-workers entered, they would ask what was new.

The year Cloe turned five, I wrote a little book for her explaining how babies are born. Snuggling her next to me on the couch, I read,”You had been growing in your mommy’s womb...”

“No, Mia, that’s room,” she instructed. “R-r-r-room.”

At Christmas time I display the tile on which she drew Santa Clause. “Oh Oh Oh”, is the caption.

Vacations were more fun with Cloe along. One year we took a train from Williams, AZ to the Grand Canyon. It was stopped by desperados on horseback. When they told my husband to turn over all his money, Cloe glared at them. “My grandpa left all his money at the hotel,” she declared.

I wasn’t ready to be a grandma. But then Cloe taught me that I didn’t have to be ready. All I had to do is respond to the overwhelming love she inspired.

She graduates from high school this year. I look forward to all the joys ahead; college, her career choice, perhaps a wedding and children of her own. Wherever she goes, we’ll watch with pride. There’s another grandchild in our life, a little boy. And thanks to Cloe, we know just how to welcome him.

Learn more about this author, Carol Smock.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.