Mom Lesson: When Grandparents Strike

Mother looking at her sleeping baby head to head in a hospital bed

I was spoiled by my grandmother. If I wanted it, it was mine, whether it was an R-rated movie at age seven (my parents were recently appalled to hear she allowed), or ice cream for breakfast. Anything went at Grannie’s house, and I enjoyed it back then, you know, when I was little and came from Mom and Dad’s house, which had major restrictions.

But now I’m Mom, and my mom is Grannie, and I am now finding myself scared for the upcoming weekend– the weekend where my 10-month-old daughter is going spend her first night EVER away from me, completely with my parents. We’re a military family, so S’s grandparents don’t get to see her on a daily or even weekly basis, which absolutely kills them. Since day one they’ve been begging for a weekend where they get her all to themselves.

As summer comes to an end, and my mom is on the cusp of heading back to her teaching position, and I am about to embark on my final semester as an undergrad (FIST PUMP), I’m going to give in. I will meet my mom halfway between our two homes, pass off my daughter, and drive back to my house, all while unsuccessfully fighting back tears.

I already know that bedtimes routines will be forfeited in favor of long play sessions on the floor. I know that bibs won’t be worn, because she’s “only a baby once, and a little mess won’t hurt her.” I know that nap time will be instituted if, and only if, S closes her eyes on her own. And I know that her granddaddy will eat up every smile, giggle, and open-mouthed kiss, because he is besotted with my little girl.

It’s the best part of life, though, time with grandparents. I only grew up with one, my grandmother, but she definitely had a hand in shaping my childhood. And all those things that grandparents let slip makes you love being with them even more.

My husband and I will make the most of our first child-less weekend in nearly a year, though. We’re going to paint the living room and dining room, and revel in the fact that we will not have to wash bottles or change a diaper for over 48 hours. That is something to truly rejoice over.


But, when Sunday finally rolls around, I know my husband and I will be up early, speeding down the highway to the meeting spot, desperate to get our girl back in our arms, and her routine back on schedule. At 10-months-old, I have a feeling this will be fairly easy. But as S grows, I’m certain I’m going to be hearing a lot of, “Well, at Grannie’s house, she lets me [insert something ridiculous and insane that only a grandparent would allow].” Tough luck, chick, this is my domain, not the law-less utopia that my parents created for you.

What goes around, comes around. Dang.