Monday, 27 July 2015

Unselfie (Adventures of L-Plate Gran)



There are many unexpected outcomes to minding a small baby. An increased appreciation of alcohol at the end of a 10 hour shift is one. Upper arm definition from pushing a purple top-of-the-range buggy and lifting a top-of-the-range baby is another.

But the least expected, and most appreciated is the complete acceptance of me. Little G does not see the wrinkles, eye-bags, elderly skin, flab and general decrepitude that I see in the mirror every day. To her, I am Mammar (portmanteau word Mummy + Grandma).

I am the provider of fun, snacks, meals, outings, songs (she doesn't even notice I can't carry a tune in a bucket, bless her). Her values are not those of the world around her. In her world, love is the only thing that matters, and those people who give it to her get it back. In spades.

Given that it is all too easy to let social media amplify anxieties and set ridiculous new norms, to be in the company of someone who simply couldn't give a stuff is very liberating.

I was reminded of this the other week when we were hurrying home to avoid the rain. Passing a shop window, I caught sight of myself. And what a sight it was: my coat collar was crooked, my eye makeup was making a bid for freedom and my hair stuck up in a strange way.

My exasperated sigh must have attracted Little G's attention. She looked up at me, 'Mammar!' she crowed, eyes shining with love. She gave me a smile of infinite sweetness. And all at once the hashtag #elderlybagperson stopped trending.



To be continued ...    .....


17 comments:

  1. Beautiful! Mind you, when they hit their pre-teens and you can't do anything right and they are ashamed of you...

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  2. See, that's DAUGHTERS (been there, still inhabit the kingdom) Little G will think I'm wonderful whatever age she is! *crosses fingers*

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  3. Ah this is a lovely post and so true. Children don't see the wrinkles, they see love and love you back unconditionally. Being a mother has been a blast. I can't wait to be a Gran. Bring. It. On. :D x

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  4. And giving children unconditional love gives them a safe place to turn to - no matter how old they become. Heart-warming post, Carol. You show us again, they're blessings indeed.

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  5. Tracy & Teagan, I can honestly say that the company of small children is so liberating! If you could bottle it, there'd be a lot less female anxst!

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  6. Beautiful post, Carol... I loved the imagery...and agree with Little G, you are you...beautiful you, regardless of what your hair, laugh lines, & collar are up to :)

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  7. Oh yes - and it doesn't stop. Standing at the school gate, wishing one of the young mums would get up from the only bench so you can sit down, wondering why it's always raining when it's your turn to do this - and the darling runs out to fling arms round you as if you are the only person in the world she wants to see at this very moment - and it all falls away. Grandmas are second only to angels.

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    1. Just as well, I think..... but it is rather glorious, I agree

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  8. Mammar's are special to all granddaughters, no matter how young or old we are. I would give anything to see my grandma again. Beautiful post x

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  9. Ahhh the innocence of youth! If only we could retain ours...both innocence AND youth!...*sobs quietly whilst sipping Sanatogen*....

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  10. Love the Mammar title, that's great, my mother was christened Grandy by my daughter and that's stuck - it's nice to have a bit of originality. Little G sounds like a delicious little soul to have around to make everyone feel terrific, long may that continue :-)

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    1. I enjoy sharing her with everybody..

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  11. Lovely post Carol. As a gran I know just how it feels to be loved so unconditionally and without judgement. They are worth every moment of time and every ounce of love we expend on them.

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  12. Ah, this made me sigh big time. What a lovely post. I'll never be a mammar, but I love reading about the joys of being one. Beautiful!

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  13. I am always completely blown away by how much my three grandchildren love me - despite all my faults.

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