Oh Mum, why can’t you be a super gran?
Why can’t you see I’ve got my own life to live?
With heartfelt honesty, a mother and daughter — both brilliant Mail writers — tackle a VERY modern issue
HEAR the word ‘granny’ and it probably conjures up images of white-haired old ladies who love to knit and bake and have endless supplies of toffees in their pockets. But the reality is that the modern-day grandmother is likely still to be working, with a packed social calendar to boot, meaning her grandchildren — adored as they are — might not be the centre of her world. Here, with heartfelt honesty, KITTY DIMBLEBY reveals why she wishes her mum, BEL MOONEY, was more hands-on, while Bel argues that times have changed — and she has her own life to lead . . .
KITTY SAYS:
b
ack to school and, boy, am I glad. The summer holidays can feel endless, especially when you have to juggle all the usual chores as well as keeping the children entertained.
One day in august, to avoid dragging chloe, seven, and three-year-old Max to the supermarket, I called in the cavalry — Mum. She lives around 20 minutes away, and was in town getting her hair cut anyway, so she came to hold the fort.
I was gone less than an hour. When I got back, I was happy to find chloe building Lego and Max playing a memory game with ‘Bibi’ (as they call my mother). a lovely scene.
But, upon my return, Mum quickly gathered her things to leave — even though the children looked a bit crestfallen. Why? She had her Daily Mail column to finish, of course.
That’s how it is. and, even though she’d helped out, I couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment. You see, while I appreciate what my mother does as a grandmother, I can’t help wishing she did more.
Please don’t think me ungrateful. I know how lucky I am to have a mum who lives near my home in Somerset. But the thing i s, my childhood was lit up by the most amazing, hands-on grandparents.
My adored Nan and Grandad (Mum’s parents) spent a huge amount of time with me and my brother when we were growing up — taking us on holiday, having us at weekends. When Mum and Dad were away for work (or f un), they moved i n and parented us. With no social commitments to dilute their attention, they put us first.
and I know how helpful it was to Mum and Dad, allowing them to build their careers and have time as a couple. My grandad witnessed my first steps and patiently played with us for hours. When I was a teenager, Nan took me shopping and giggled at my stories of boys.
They helped bring me up and a big part of who I am is thanks to their love and support. as a family, we’re blessed they are both still alive (aged 95 and 97).
When I had my children, I assumed my adored mother would be the same. But times have changed and she has her own life to lead. She helps when I ask her and rarely says no. But I do have to
aged 72, she is pursuing a successful career, as well as looking after my grandparents and enjoying a social life. Nowadays, an i ncreasing number of older people are still working hard — and, when work is done, they want to do their own thing.
can I blame them? Er . . . sometimes! caring for small children is overwhelming, exhausting and (whisper it) tedious at times. But aren’t grandparents supposed to love even the boring bits?
I thought she’d be champing at the bit to take her only granddaughter, with whom she has a very close relationship, to the theatre and on outings. They had just one such day last year — a trip to an art gallery, Bath abbey and lunch. chloe loved it and so did Mum. But it hasn’t happened again.
WhEN
chl o e was younger, we went on a couple of holidays with Mum and my stepdad (who is brilliant with the kids) and we loved it — those extra pairs of hands made it into more of a break for my husband and me.
What’s more, chloe l oved the quality time with her beloved ‘ Bibi and katad’, as she calls them.
So why haven’t we done it again? Because Mum’s holiday time is limited, so she’d rather slip off to Rome with her husband.
Perhaps I’m being selfish, expecting Mum to give up her precious free time to spend it with our offspring, but I so want her to want to. I understand she loves her work, but I can’t help feeling she’s missing out.
Other social changes play a part. My parents are divorced and both have remarried, and, while I adore their partners (and my little halfsisters), life isn’t how it would be were they still together.
Things are just more complicated and f ragmented than when my grandparents scooped us up so happily. That’s why comparisons aren’t fair — and yet, I can’t help it.
I wonder if older career women ever think their time would be better spent away from the laptop? Ever realise children quickly grow up and become sullen teenagers? Do they ever reflect that moments hanging out with their grandchildren might be beneficial and keep them young? Mum loves her grandchildren so very much, and they adore her — which is why I don’t want her to look back and have regrets.
Maybe she won’t — after all, she sees her grandchildren more than I imagine many grandparents do.
What’s more, a little voice is telling me if I become a grandmother, I might feel I’ve done my time with childcare and don’t want to do it all over again, thank you very much.
BEL SAYS:
You might expect me to feel a pang reading Kitty’s words, but I don’t. Much of what she says is right, and I admire her honesty. At the same time, this grandmother believes she does quite enough!
Writing the Mail’s Saturday advice column has left me convinced that ordinary daily life presents i nsoluble dilemmas with no easy answers. Nothing in human life is ever simple and family relationships are often hideously complicated.
Parents — especially mothers — never feel they get it ‘right’.
And grandparents might resent being asked to do more, while at the same time heart- searching about selfishness.
I’m sure that Kitty cherishes a picture-perfect image of grandparenthood — fed by her own experience. My mother and father were so happy to spend every Saturday afternoon with Dan and Kitty so that I could retreat. Do I want to do the same? No, I don’t.
I’m always desperate to carve out time to relax and read — or sit down and write. It’s wonderful when the grandchildren visit, but I am happy to hand them back.
I’ve coloured-in and made brick towers and played games and planted and created models with the best of perfect grannies — but I don’t want to do any more than I already do. Patience has never been my strong point. My second husband has proved to be a far better grandparent than I am. The term ‘sandwich generation’ is used for baby-boomers like me — but I heard recently someone coined the term ‘layer cake’ for a family like ours. There’s my parents; me and my husband; my children (45 and 39), then the kids. That’s four layers which have to be balanced. Sometimes, the equilibrium goes wrong — such as when I’m cooking for my parents while suspecting I ought to give Kitty a break because she sounded stressed on the phone. Meanwhile, I’m feeling anxious about a book proposal, and I know my husband would like us to plan a holiday, but I can’t see how I can leave my parents. At times like that, the layers feel as if they’re coming apart. A generation ago, when women tended to have families at a younger age, grandparents were more youthful. My mother reminded me that when I had my son in 1974, she was 50, but when Kitty had Chloe in 2012, I was 66. That’s quite a difference in energy levels. I’ll gladly sew on nametapes and make superhero cloaks and angel costumes. At home with four grandchildren (my son and his wife have two young boys), I’ll cook their tea, make soft toys, ‘talk’ like a puppeteer, fold up washing and read stories. But, oh — enough! I do want time off.
That little word ‘duty’ is important. I do believe that harmonious family life is achieved only by means of a l evel of sacrifice and that we have a duty to help each other.
That’s why Kitty’s heartfelt, honest words have made me think. She is right that time passes by so quickly, and it’s one of the terrifying aspects of getting older that you feel it more and more.
It’s bewildering to think that Chloe, the baby girl I marvelled at in 2012 (because she was an IVF baby and had a difficult birth) is now seven. Seven, and I have never shown her how brilliant I am at building sandcastles. Why?
Faced with that question, I bow my head and know my daughter is right. I speak of ‘duty’ — and yet should I not see time with these children as more of a privilege?
But I know my feelings about the limits of grandparenting are shared. Do we all have to enjoy changing nappies and finding lost dummies all over again?
What happens when two grandparents have new partners? Then Mum may be l ess i nclined to play the old Granny role because an exciting life beckons. And if Dad is on a Danube cruise with his divorced lady friend, he can’t get out the old train set, can he?
It may be frustrating for their children that these parents are concentrating on their own lives — but don’t they have the right, having put the family first for years? honestly, I’m not sure. The only thing I am sure of is the love.