On Being a Local Grandma

One of the biggest reasons my husband and I chose to move to Seattle was to be closer to family—especially to our granddaughter. I wanted to watch her grow up, and we had difficulties traveling as frequently as I wanted to see her. Just after we moved, we learned that a second granddaughter was on the way. Our move would bring double the joy I had expected.

When we lived in Kansas City, I had been fortunate, despite the distance from Seattle. I saw my granddaughter every few months for a week at a time, either at her home or when she and her parent(s) visited us. During those times, I could dive headfirst into grand-mothering around the clock—learning for that moment her sleep schedule, how she liked to be held, which foods she liked, and all the other little ways that we get to know the babies in our families. Still, those times weren’t as frequent as I would have liked, and a week together now and then couldn’t make up for months apart.

Now, I am a local grandma, which brings even more joy. I’m no longer on call in the middle of the night during visits—which is both a blessing and a loss. I don’t spend 24/7 with my granddaughters when we are together, so I can’t absorb the details as well. But in exchange, I get the consistency of frequent time together.

The toddler granddaughter knows me now, and remembers me between visits. She doesn’t just recognize me—she trusts me. She may be shy when I see her after a week or two apart, or if she’s upset and needs her parents. But after a bit, she will slip her hand into mine in a parking lot or nestle beside me for a story, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Those small gestures feel like gifts each time.

She and I have played make-believe with her dolls, blown bubbles from my deck, and raced down the hallway in my apartment building at full throttle. When she gets bored in a restaurant, she crawls into my lap, and I distract her with stories about the pictures of her on my phone. It’s these little things that remind me why being a local grandma matters.

Earlier this year, I spent a few weeks chauffeuring her to and from day care. Those short drives became our own ritual—me at the wheel, her in the back seat eating the cookie I had brought her. I taught her “red means stop and green means go.” Soon we added “yellow means be careful” to our mantra.

In early September, my husband and I joined her and her mother and baby sister for an outing to the zoo, and on a Sunday this summer we watched her soccer practice and then had a picnic in a park.

Her baby sister is just beginning to know me. At four months old, she greets me with easy smiles. Once a week this month, I spend a day as her babysitter. We play peek-a-boo and patty-cake, and she rewards me with coos and giggles that melt me every time. She naps comfortably on my lap. In a few months, she will likely develop separation anxiety as she matures a bit, but she’ll soon get through it and recognize me. I will be someone she knows and trusts, not a stranger who drifts in and out of her life.

The times I spend with my granddaughters now are not grand occasions, just part of their daily and weekly routines. But these times are the threads that weave together a strong relationship. When we lived far apart, we could only be visitors or drop-ins in each other’s life. Now, I get to be part of their everyday life. I hope to become a fun grandma, as well as a babysitter and an extra person on the day care center’s authorized adult list.

Being a local grandmother is about the everyday. And in the everyday, I’ve found great joy. At this point in my life, I can’t be certain how many years I’ll have with these girls. But I hope we will have enough years together that they will remember me as fondly as I remember my grandmothers.

What do you remember about your grandparents?