Grandchildren

When I had babies, we delighted in the surprise of hearing, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!”  Nurseries were pale yellow and pale green, so as not to offend the little one.  As if they cared.  Now days we know babies like black and white and they star in their own little video, complete with gender identification, long before we get to hold them.  These are our grandchildren—we know much about them and love them before they are born.

Research shows that baby boomer grandmothers are more active than our grandmothers were.  Now days children go to grandmother’s house and she says, “Where are your hiking boots? Pack up the granola bars, we’re going up the mountain.”  What happened to baking cookies and sewing your own clothes?

We all know we don’t have time for that.  We are career women.  We are educated on health issues.  We know those quarter pound hamburgers will kill us, so we don’t eat them every day, just on Saturdays. 

In the 1960s and 1970s, women fought for the right to enter the rat race.  We got in the race, but still don’t have front starting status.  It takes a while to get around with all that extra baggage—women’s work—that we kept when we entered the race.  Something’s wrong with this picture. 

 

Now I’d rather be home baking cookies—but I’d have to do it after work.  Many of the young moms would rather be baking cookies too.  Listen to me now, this is what I’ve learned.  Go for it.  Work enough to stimulate your intellect and challenge you professionally and stay home as much as you can afford and want.  Spend time with the kids.  Their intelligence and compassion will increase and, in the long run, make a better world.  The world where my grandchildren live.