Daily Mail

Grandma and grandpa have no purpose? What rot!

A study that children don’t need grandparen­ts provoked a huge post bag from furious readers. Here, granny of five SANDRA HOWARD, says . . .

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THERE can be no greater moment than arriving at your daughter’s front door and hearing a small boy jumping up and down on the other side, shouting: ‘It’s Gran-Gran and Grandpa!’

Your grandson then hurls himself into your arms, his younger brother Theo bouncing up and down for his share of hugs. Then their chubby, nearly-two-year-old sister, who’s still a bit shy, shuffles over — it’s not long before she warms up and shows off her new tricks.

Jasper, the eldest, now seven, is soon tugging on his grandfathe­r’s arm, dragging him out into the back garden for a neverendin­g game of football. Theo joins in while I humour Layla with her own ball.

I thought of our precious time with our grandchild­ren when I read that a team of scientists at Edinburgh University has claimed that the ‘evolutiona­ry purpose’ of grandparen­ts is a mystery — and that children fare just as well without them. Citing the results of a detailed study, the scientists declared there is no obvious biological reason for either sex living beyond the age of 50.

What rot! Which busy working parent has the time to kick a football into the gap between two bushes and endlessly retrieve it? Never mind all the help that we give our children and their families, whether its with childcare, indulgent confidence-boosting or even financial aid at times.

As one who missed out on the grandparen­t experience — my mother’s father died before I was born, her mother had a stroke and couldn’t communicat­e, and I only met my father’s parents once (they lived in South Africa) — I have always been acutely aware of my very particular role in our five grandchild­ren’s lives.

Let me explain my family: I have three children, Nick and Larissa with my husband Michael, and my eldest, Sholto, from a previous relationsh­ip.

My grandchild­ren Jasper, Theo and Layla belong to my daughter Larissa and her husband Conrad, then my son Sholto and his wife Alex have my other two grandchild­ren, Louis and Tallula, who are in their late teens.

Not only are we valuable back-up, as the children (and we) grow older, learning to cope with the doddery, cantankero­us seniors in their lives will, I think, be character building. After all, it never hurts to acquire a little patience.

ANd

then there’s the fact that we can be more lenient, perhaps more fun, mischievou­s even, than parents. Theo, who is four, loves to show me the seeds he has planted with his mother; he is growing in confidence, but it’s still a bit shaky at times, and seeing how proud I am of him can only be a little boost.

Once when he was two and visiting us in Kent, I took him to a corner of the garden that looks out over the fields of Romney Marsh to the distant English Channel and told him that the clearly etched line dividing the sea and sky was called the horizon.

Six months later I asked him if he could remember what the dark etched line was called and he whispered ‘horizon’ very shyly. I’m not sure which of us was prouder.

Like me, you disagreed vociferous­ly with the Edinburgh research — by the sackload.

Reacting to the news story, you wrote in in your droves to explain what makes grandparen­ts not only invaluable to their families, but the glue that holds society together.

The childcare support grandparen­ts provide is well documented: we are the most used form of childcare in the UK, ahead of nurseries and pre- schools, according to recent research.

And then there is the matter of trust. My daughter works four days a week. With her two boys at different schools and the toddler to care for, too, there are inevitably times when there’s a sudden panicky need for cover. She would far rather call on me than some stranger from an agency.

Understand­ably, she feels happier to leave her three children with a grand- parent they love — who also knows which drawer the Pampers are kept in, what snacks they are allowed, and all their little foibles and ways.

Reader Joy Adams, 76, lives in Reading and has five grandchild­ren aged eight to 24.

Together with her ‘opposite-in-law’, she says she’s been looking after grandchild­ren Thomas, 11, and eightyear-old Madeleine since Thomas was just nine months old.

She wrote: ‘We do it very much as one big family. There’s no competitio­n at all; when they were little, one grandma had them for three days a week while their parents worked, and the other for two — and then we’d alternate the next week.

‘The children have both grandmas for Christmas, and we’re both in the audience for every music performanc­e and school play. We’re quite able to take a discreet back seat when it comes to parental decision-making.’

Understand­ably, Joy disagreed with the conclusion grandparen­ts are superfluou­s: ‘For some of us, these years are the best of our lives.

‘We help our families without making a fuss, but we’re always here — a reliable workforce paid in love and sticky- fingered hugs.’ That’s the point: the hours we put in are out of love, with no payment or appreciati­on expected in return.

Far from being of no purpose, as Jenny day, 81, who has four grandchild­ren, aged six to 17, says: ‘Most of us wonder what our children would do without us.’

Twice a week, and sometimes more often, she and husband Ron, 83, drive 30 miles from Hemel Hempstead to Milton Keynes — taking with them a partly-prepared dinner for six — to collect their eight-year- old granddaugh­ter from school.

Jenny explains: ‘We take her home, or sometimes to Brownies or football. We do her spelling and times tables with her, and check she’s done her Mandarin homework, and then at 5pm, pick up her six-year-old brother from his school and do the same with him.

‘A bit later, I’ll sort out the dinner I’ve brought from home — perhaps I’ll roast the potatoes I’ve already parboiled, and do chicken with it — and then we’ll eat with the children, and leave two more dinners ready for my son and his wife, who are both full-time accountant­s.’

If that’s not enough, they oversee bath time, and often there are one-off after-school activities that require a willing chauffeur, too. The pair don’t reach home themselves until about 8.30pm, shattered but happily so.

Vanessa Lloyd Platt, 62, a divorce solicitor, sees things from a very different perspectiv­e.

She has four grandchild­ren, aged five years to nine months, and says when families split — as so often happens these days — grandparen­ts are the ones who provide ‘stability, comfort and unconditio­nal love’.

VANESSA

has also listened to tearful stories from hundreds of grandparen­ts who have been denied access to their grandchild­ren, and seen for herself how emotionall­y damaging it is.

At present, more than one million grandparen­ts in the UK are prevented from seeing their grandchild­ren, and ‘ the impact is devastatin­g’, says Vanessa. She continues: ‘I’ve also acted for grandparen­ts who’ve been denied access because the mother has taken offence at some imagined slur on her parenting.

‘ The reasons can be relatively

minor: an innocuous comment on the perils of too much TV watching, or a pointed observatio­n that in her day, children weren’t allowed to run around restaurant­s, and the visits by grandchild­ren suddenly stop, causing heartbreak all round.’

When grandparen­ts are absent, Vanessa is in no doubt that ‘it’s the children who suffer’.

‘What grandparen­ts do best is not usurp the parents’ role, but offer support and laughter, which children need,’ she says.

‘As a grandmothe­r myself, the fun my grandchild­ren and I have together is truly a wonderful thing.’

Hilda Livesey, 84, from the Isle of Man, has six grandchild­ren a great-grandchild­ren.

She speaks of the reciprocal nature of the relationsh­ip: ‘My husband and I looked after two of my six grandchild­ren, Charlotte and Rachel, every day almost from the moment they were born until they were eight and nine years old. We had such fun with them.

I can honestly say I’ve had more enjoyment from my grandchild­ren — and now my seven great-grandchild­ren — than I think I ever had with my own.’

She, too, highlights the ‘special role’, saying: ‘We are there to spoil and indulge, for hugs and treats.

‘Now the grandchild­ren are all grown up and my husband has passed away, yet Charlotte — now 24 — still goes to his grave to talk to him. It’s a mark of how important their relationsh­ip was. I wonder whether there’s a scientific equation to measure the strength of that bond?’

Jean Howell, 69, who lives in Northampto­nshire with husband Colin, 70, and has three grandchild­ren, aged eight, six and three, also makes the point that our generation not only save our children a fortune in childcare, we also bind communitie­s together by doing ‘ most of the voluntary work’.

She says: ‘I spend one day a week in a centre for people suffering neurologic­al disorders, for example, where we give carers a day’s respite from the challenge of looking after loved ones in wheelchair­s.

‘I also volunteer in a hospice, where I help the nurses by making beds and tea, doing bits of laundry and just talking to the patients. The volunteers are retired, for the most part, and certainly over 50.’

Jean has also trained as a Samaritan, helped at the local Girlguidin­g group, volunteere­d at the local cricket club and run playgroups for mums and toddlers.

She says: ‘This is what we do with our time when we’re not looking after extended family, or our own very elderly parents. And that’s after many of us have worked for 30 years.’

She concludes: ‘It makes me cross to see this insidious underminin­g of my generation. ‘We’re not bed-blockers and we haven’t all had it easy — most young people today have no idea what it’s like to grow up without central heating or half-decent food.

‘And now that we are comfortabl­e, we’re giving hours and hours of our time for free. That sounds like a valid purpose in life to me.’

I couldn’t have put it better myself. After all, it’s only us ‘ oldsters’ who have time to spare.

Meanwhile our grandchild­ren enjoy the treats, admiration and, sensing our unconditio­nal love, the ability to share their little secrets.

As they approach the argumentat­ive teens, they can ask questions and bang on for hours.

After all, we can smile and listen, and it’s no matter if at our time of life we don’t catch every word.

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 ??  ?? Family tree: Sandra (centre) holding her grandson Jasper with husband Michael behind her. Top row, from left: Jasper’s parents Conrad and Larissa (Sandra’s daughter), and Sandra’s son Nick. Bottom row: Alex, with Tallula on her lap, and her husband Sholto (Sandra’s son) with Louis. Inset, from left: Larissa and Conrad’s children Layla, Jasper and Theo growing up
Family tree: Sandra (centre) holding her grandson Jasper with husband Michael behind her. Top row, from left: Jasper’s parents Conrad and Larissa (Sandra’s daughter), and Sandra’s son Nick. Bottom row: Alex, with Tallula on her lap, and her husband Sholto (Sandra’s son) with Louis. Inset, from left: Larissa and Conrad’s children Layla, Jasper and Theo growing up

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