I often reflect on why Ive never felt comfortable leaving my children in the sole care of their grandmothers.
Im now thirty-one years old, a mother of two young daughtersthree years and one year oldand Ive chosen to devote myself entirely to raising them at home. When I had my first child, it seemed only naturalperhaps even expectedthat the grandmothers would be there to lend a hand in those difficult early days. Looking back, I must admit they were rather more of a hindrance than a help, and I soon realised I was left to manage on my own.
Let me share a little of what that was like:
After my eldest was born, and especially in the first days after we returned from hospital, I felt utterly helpless. I had no idea where to begin; what now feels instinctive after two children then left the whole house in confusion. Of course, there arent any instructions tucked away in ones mind about how to care for a newborn!
Id thought the older generation, with all its supposed wisdom and experience, would certainly know how to bathe, feed, change, and even trim a babys nailsnot to mention cope with illnesses. But as it turned out, even the basics sparked debate and disagreement, and so I found I simply had to figure things out myself. Even the simple act of bathing became a matter of heated opinion!
In time, I learned to change nappies with confidence and generally found my feet. I am genuinely grateful to both my mother and my mother-in-law for all theyve given me, but nowadays these memories give me a wry smile:
Grandmother 1 (my mother-in-law):
You should always say a prayer over the babys bath water and let her drink only that water.
Half a year later, I simply bought a filter for the tap.
And you must wash a baby only with brown household soapits also best for rashes, you know.
If your children are unwell, its because youre not raising them properly.
To quiet a crying baby, you ought to take her to an old wise woman in the villageshe knows what to do.
Grandmother 2 (my own mother):
Oh, just leave her to cryshell stop eventually. If shes feverish, a little Calpol will fix it.
You spoil your children with too many toys. Youre far too indulgent.
Ill come by Saturday at one in the afternoon, but I have to leave at four for the picturesjust like every weekend, you know.
Sweets and savouries are fine from six months old. If the baby wants it, she should have it.
I love my mother dearly, but these days I have a lot of questions about the way we were brought up!
I recall how we were fed, or more often not fed properly at all. We were often left with my own grandmother, and I remember living on tinned spaghetti for whole days, only to come home to the fattiest roasts and buttery puddings. Coughs were brushed aside until I ended up with whooping cough more than once. Looking back, its no mystery why my digestion still gives me trouble, nor why my liver had rather too much work to do.
The truth is, I do care for our grandmothers very much, but I simply couldnt entrust them with my girls for several days at a stretch. Theyre welcome under supervision, of course. Im not unduly anxiousI just find it hard to let goStill, as I watch my daughters playingsometimes mischievous, sometimes angelicI smile and wonder what stories theyll tell one day. Perhaps theyll recount how I hovered anxiously at bedtime, how I refused to let them eat lollipops before breakfast, or the way I tiptoed into their darkened rooms just to make sure their breathing was even. I hope theyll remember laughter, not worry; picnics in the park, not just wet wipes and warnings.
Maybe Im building my own brand of motherly mythology, with my rules and worries and stubborn love. I suppose every generation does, never quite realising that the tender chaos is nothing new. Some daywhen the house is too quiet and the dolls no longer have tea partiesI might even welcome a little grandmotherly help of my own, and offer advice with a knowing wink.
For now, Ill cling to the ordinary days, treasuring the chance to get it gloriously, imperfectly right in my own way. And as my girls nestle close, their small hands wrapping round mine, I know that for all the arguments and mixed advice, I am exactly where I am meant to be.
