As I open my eyes this morning, the sun is shining down through the skylight onto Addie’s blonde hair. She nestled between Ed and I at some wee hour of the morning when we were too tired to walk her back to her bed. (I’d be stiff as a board if I slept in her loft bed next to her waiting for her to pass out more than her five minute normal. This has happened.) Her closed eyes and relaxed bubblegum mouth look angelic, and I think, “Thank you, God.” This is a rare occasion (not the thanking, but the way the wake up happened). Usually I awake to several pats and a loud whisper, “Grandma, it’s almost seven o’clock!” I carefully move out of the bed and quietly grab my phone and glasses, tiptoeing to the door, and hear, “Grandma, wait for me and Eee-Eee” (Addie’s stuffed monkey). My day begins…
It’s kindergarten orientation today. I get to sit in a micro seat and sign up for a craft at the holiday party. There will be snack responsibilities and I will savor this sign up too, because I can say with some confidence that this WILL be my last time doing this. (Please don’t laugh God.) I hear the motion detector alarms and realize that Andy is now awake and moving. The alarms are the newest toy in Ned’s quest to keep Houdini (I mean Andy) in bed. Our eight year old doesn’t try to evade the electronic eyes in the mornings, but the past two nights have been a contest between Ned and he to outsmart the other. I’d like to say Ned is winning but that’s really a matter of perspective. Andy can and does get past both motion detectors and sneak past the visual monitor when I’m not staring at it. The difference is that now he’s happy like a child playing a game of Hide n Seek, rather than defiantly angry, bent on getting into trouble. I call that progress. The past year has brought the right mix of medication and therapy to bring us a happier, slightly “better behaved” child. Andy’s come so far from the speechless toddler dropped off years ago, and we have hope that he will continue to grow and regulate his emotions, which has also been slowly improving. There’s joy in our morning routine, simple tasks and breakfast.
Later we meet Addie’s little friend Ella, age five, along with her grandma, Joy. I’ve arranged for one of Andy’s buddies, Dustin, (with his mom) to all meet at the water splash park. This is the ideal summer playdate. I don’t have to get wet if I don’t feel like it and the kids can safely run around and have fun within the fenced area. There will be adult monitoring and conversation at a nearby picnic table with Joy, who worries she “will be doing what we are doing,” with Ella in the near future. She sees the warning signs of drug use by Ella’s parents, and wonders where she will find the energy? She’s one of the lucky grandparents who have a supportive spouse who has already said that it will be okay, who can foresee the question, “Will you take and care for your grandchildren?” Dustin’s mom sees another side of life for a moment and appreciates her own energy. (I know I look my age in a swimsuit, and of course, Joy and I look like a hundred to the young.) The sun is shining and I’m enjoying the moment. Our village is constantly changing but remains supportive, and I’ve found a peace in this place filled with friends, many in similar circumstances, raising grandchildren and elementary school children like us.
We said, “Yes”, that single powerful word that turned our lives inside out and then right side up. I’m happy, and a little surprised by that. A week ago today, my longtime girlfriend had to bail on a lunch date because her stepsister had passed away of an overdose. The sister left behind two daughters, who her stepmom had been watching more frequently as of late. My friend knew that her dad had already firmly said he wasn’t raising anymore children as they anticipated the question. She watched as her stepmom leaned more heavily on alcohol because the feeling of guilt weighed heavily from not taking the kids. It sounds like a nightmare to me, and I was glad my friend spent the day supporting her lovely stepmother. I’m grateful Ned and I are a team in this venture. We were so lucky to just be able to do this-big enough house, a little extra money we would have spent traveling to modify and make more bedrooms, and health to keep up with them. Even though we didn’t consider resources when answering the life changing question, we rolled with the punches and adjusted accordingly.
These wonderful little people, Andy and Addie, are not my biological grandchildren, but that never weighed into my “yes”. I have always loved children, and it’s hard to imagine life without them. I’m told my biological mother loved children as well, that we share this trait. Before I was a year old, she passed away from cancer. My dad remarried when I was two, and my brother and two sisters were cared for by a saint who became our “mom”. (I’m the toddler on my dad’s lap in the photo below.) Three years later I was gifted with another sister. We were a blended family. She loved and raised us with my dad, so I had a role model. I can’t think of a better one either.
Angela Tobin leads the state Kinship Caregivers Connect Support Group and was recently featured on a Ted-talk. As a kinship caregiver advocate, Ms. Tobin sums up the current situation of epidemic proportions facing family (and close friends) caregivers today in an eloquent thirteen minutes. She is the product of a grandparents raising grandchildren, and a credit to her version of family, “where no one is left behind”.
Here’s the link: Angela Tobin Understanding and Supporting Kinship Caregivers
We said “yes”, and “no”, fought Children’s Protective Services and won, weathered a pandemic and the deaths of our sons, found resources and support, created our village, and thrived. I’m enjoying this present, and I have hope for the future.