I spent eight years caring for my grandchildren, not a single penny ever came my way and yesterday, they told me theyd rather be with “the other grandma,” because she never scolds them and always brings them tablets.
I am the grandma of warm soup.
The grandma who walks them to school, wipes their noses, cooks their meals, washes and irons their clothes, carries schoolbags, turns off lights behind them, and tucks them in when their parents are late.
The other grandma is “the glamorous one.”
The one who visits now and thenarriving with bouquets, spritzes of luxurious perfume, and shiny new gifts.
She doesn’t know what it means to sit, holding a feverish child all night.
But she certainly knows how to buy the latest model of tablet.
Yesterday, my grandchildren told me they wished I was like her.
And for the first time in my sixty-two years, I understood what it feels like to be invisible in your own toil.
My name is Margaret Turner. Im 62.
I have a daughter, Emily,
and two grandchildrenOliver (8) and Harriet (6).
Emily works. Her husband, Charles, works too.
And since “theres no money for a childminder” and they “dont trust nurseries,” they simply assumed that I, the pensioner, should spend the rest of my days looking after their children.
And I did it.
Consciously.
Lovingly.
With true devotion.
I rise at half five.
By half six, Im already in their house.
I make breakfast.
I sort through mountains of socks, hunt for missing T-shirts, get them dressed, lace up shoes, pack up bags, and drive them to school.
Then comes cleaning, tidying, cooking, doing the laundry.
In the afternoonI pick them up.
Homework, naps, soup and a bit of discipline.
I am the grandma of rules.
The grandma who sets boundaries.
The grandma who says:
Dont eat sweets before supper,
Go and wash your hands,
Enough with the tablet,
Finish your homework.
In other wordsthe “boring” grandma.
And then theres ElaineCharles mother.
Elaine hasnt worked in years.
She has plenty of money.
A woman with a fresh manicure, styled hair, outfits for going out, who takes holidays to Italy and Greece.
Elaines never brewed tea at 3 a.m. because a child was coughing.
Shes never hunted for missing socks, never scrubbed up sick from the carpet, never chased a child around the living room with a spoon.
Elaine is the “special guest star.”
She appears twice a yearChristmas, and birthdays
with presents, chocolate, and the latest gadgets.
The children adore her.
Just as all children adore the one who never says no or tells them what to do.
Yesterday was Olivers birthday.
I woke at five to make his favourite homemade cake.
With eggs, cream, walnutsjust how he likes it.
I bought him a beautiful storybook and a warm jumperwhat my pension would allow.
Come four oclock, Elaine arrived.
With perfectly styled hair, expensive perfume and a shiny designer handbag.
She swept in like some television personality.
My darlings! she sang out.
Oliver and Harriet greeted her like she was a pop star.
They raced past me, as if I was a potplant tucked into a corner.
Elaine pulled out two large white boxes.
Two brand-new tablets.
To help keep things fun, she said. And today, nobodys allowed to tell you how long you can play!
The children squealed with delight.
Emily and Charles beamed:
Well done, Mum! Youre amazing! Thank you!
I stood in the kitchen slicing the cake.
The same cake Id woken before sunrise to make.
The cake no one glanced at.
I went to Oliver.
Oliver, sweetheart, heres my present for you. And the cake
He didnt look up.
Not now, Gran. Im setting up my character.
But, love
Gran! You always bring cake! The other grandma gives real presents! Its always books and clothes with you. Boring.
Theres a pain in that I would wish on no one.
I looked at Emily.
I was hoping, at least, that she would say, Dont speak to your grandma like that!
But she?
She just laughed.
Oh, Mum, dont fuss. Children love new things. Elaines the fun grandma. Youre the one with the routine.
The one with the routine.
Is that what care and devotion are called now?
Harriet delivered the final blow:
I wish Granny Elaine lived here. She never tells us off. Youre always tired.
I glanced at my handsrough from soap, laundry and cleaning.
I glanced at Elainefresh-faced, a goddess for a day, with two tablets in her designer bag.
I glanced at my daughterlounging with a glass of wine, free to enjoy herself because Im there to pick up the pieces.
I took off my apron.
Folded it carefully.
Laid it on the counter.
I walked into the sitting room.
Emily, Im leaving.
What do you mean!? What about the cake? And tidying up? Whos going to sort everything out!?
Wont the ‘fun grandma’ help today?
Elaine gave a faux-sincere smile:
Margaret, my backs playing up I really cant strain myself.
Dont worry. I wouldnt dream of you soiling your nice outfit.
I turned to Emily:
The children are right. I am boring. I am strict. I am the one who gives them rules and decent food.
And perhaps what you all need is a bit more freedom.
So as of tomorrow, Im done.
Mum, how could you!? Whos going to take them to school in the morning!?
I dont know. Perhaps Elaine. Or sell one of those tablets and hire a childminder.
We need you!
No. You need a servant. And that, I am not.
I looked at Oliver.
Gran arent you coming back?
No, love. It will be great tomorrow.
No one to make you eat vegetables, learn your sums, or go to bed on time.
Freedom.
And I left.
The phone hasnt stopped ringing.
Emily, crying.
Charles, telling me Im being dramatic.
But I wont be returning.
Tomorrow, Ill get up at nine.
Make myself a coffee.
Enjoy a slice of my own cake.
And watch my shows.
For the first time in yearsIll be the star of my own life.
So, what do you thinkare grandmas obliged to watch the grandkids, or do their children simply use them to cut corners?
