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Loving The Changes

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Four months ago I became an official grandmother, well "Lovey" to Jett Parker Ellington Wade. Not being called grandma has nothing to do with vanity, but I only remember my grandma when  hear the title. My mom is 'Granny' and my sister's grandchildren call her 'grandmother'. I want to be that little fellow's lovey. The one he runs to when his mother is just not being tied around his finger.

Isn't it hilarious how our roles in life shift and change under our feet and we never really realize we are moving and reforming?  It took a bit of time to inhale the fact I wasn't my mom's  little girl anymore and was responsible for the lives of other humans.I only just accepted the fact I am no longer the mommy, but the mother.  I'll be 53 in a couple of months and I just can't phantom that. I used to think that number meant you were old. I wonder if my mom felt that way. It's not the case of being an empty nester (kinda dumb term because the nest is never really empty. Fragments remain, ties are still there and the children always return, yeah).
One thing about being Lovey is the definite fact I have been given a gift. A gift of renewal and second chances. Whatever I couldn't do with my own I can rectify in a grandchild. No longer am I the harassed hurried single parent trying to rear and home-school three daughters.  I am the calm collected person who saves him from (very)early morning boredom in the crib. I am the one who rushes hm down the stairs and out the door to catch the first morning breezes and sun burst through the clouds. I see the same joy (and of course adoration)in his eyes when he looks at me that the girls had.  In him manly skills will be taught. Already he has his chores. He walks with me as we (I) feed the dog,put out trash, water plants, load the dishwasher. His babbling shows the joy he feels at doing housework. Wait a minute....maybe that's just me feeling the joy in being Lovey.  Isn't he beautiful?

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