How can I be a grandmother? I never had kids. But I married a man who had two. Granted, they were teenagers then, and it somehow never occurred to me that they would actually grow up, get married and have kids of their own. But there we are.
The first one arrived last October, Henry, my stepson's son. I met him at 2.5 months, and I have to admit, he is cute and I coo appropriately at each new photo that arrives. I love that he's starting to sport his grandfather's red hair and I enjoy each week's new posting on his mother's blog, reporting growth spurts and new skills.
The next one is due in six weeks. My stepdaughter and her husband are expecting Jackson to arrive in early April, if he cooperates. She's now on strict bed rest after some early contractions and other events this week.
I still don't think of myself as a grandmother. I don't bake cookies (I don't bake anything, actually) and I've never had much experience with babies, toddlers or little kids. Teenagers I can talk to, but younger than that, I don't really understand the language. But I'm willing to learn, and I'm starting to look forward to playing with the little boys and showing them all around the farm. I got myself "The Little Big Book for Grandmothers" for Christmas, so, hopefully, I'll be able to tell them stories with the right endings and remember all the verses to my favorite poems. I worry about these things: what if I got Little Red Riding Hood mixed up with Hansel and Gretel and the Big Bad Wolf ate everyone? That would not be good.
So, for now, I'm learning to let myself get excited about cute onesies and baby sweater patterns and enjoy the process of becoming a grandmother. I never thought it would happen to me!
