by Ann Stewart Porter

Created on: May 14, 2010   Last Updated: May 15, 2010

Grand parenting came into existence the first time that children had children. It is aptly named because it can be the most grand part of parenting. I did not know that was true until my grandchildren came into the picture. It didn't take me long to realize I liked it much better than I did parenting! 

My daughter will insist I help her keep them in line. I grin and say I did that already and I don't have to do it anymore. I did not like being the potty trainer, the good grade motivator or the eat all your plate police. My daughter claims I was a phenomenal mother. I claim she is being nice, now that she knows what mothering means.

I guess I do like grand parenting because...as the old fun goes...you can send them home. Still, there is so much more to grand parenting. I have come to see how valuable it can be and how privileged I am to be a part of the whole of it. I had two very different sets of grandparents.

One side was wealthy, stoic, and had a child the same age as me, so it all seemed strange. They never held me, told me a story, or even appeared to want me in their home. They didn't let us play in their grass. They didn't let us shower inside.

My mother used to shower us outside with the water hose before we went in their house!  Grandpa had a little grocery in town. Walking to the grocery through the huge old weeping willows, swiping your feet in the sand and eating pickles out of the big barrel was the most fun.

If our parents hadn't taken us to the islands and the beaches, it would have been less than memorable. My husband's grand parenting stories were sad and mostly non-existent. They sounded mean and tired.

Neither of us can say we missed these grandparents when they were gone, but there is one Grandma I won't forget. I had not yet reached puberty when Grandma Cobble died.

Actually, Grandma Cobble died before she died. She probably had Alzheimer's and the strokes didn't help. We simply called it losing your mind and she did. She had outlived three husbands and only three of her children lived to adulthood. She was poor and illerate, until my mother taught her to read.  

Mama went on to become a professor of Greek and Hebrew, so you can break the cycle of illeracy. We children took turns staying with her to make sure she was okay. She was round as she was tall. She snored like a bear. She slept with the window open and made the best apple butter in the universe.

She watched TV evangelists, made soft delicious

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