Life's Like That
For nine years we looked after our granddaughter, from the time she was six months old to nine-and-a-half years of age. Easy it was not. We found ourselves doing things we had already done, raising three children of our own, but when we were young and willing and able. We were still willing and able, but we most certainly were not young when we set out on this additional child-raising venture when we were 60. Dealing with the needs of an infant was difficult, and no less difficult when she became a toddler. We loved her dearly as we do now, but she was possessed of a stubborn temperament inherited from her own mother.
Little did I realize that I would go through this process twice, for I distinctly recall the difficulties I faced as a young mother raising our middle child, a girl, sandwiched between two boys whose temperaments were diametrically opposed to hers. I suppose I should be grateful that all three children didn't pose equal difficulties, but at the time I wondered why she was so difficult to please, why her happiness was so fleeting, why she seemed so inclined to rail against life.
I hoped, needless to say, that her daughter would be different in that sense. I could never criticize my daughter for lack of intelligence, of creative drive, of openness to communication with others; nor can I this time around find criticism of her daughter's sterling attributes of which there are, like her mother, many and varied. All this for the purpose of developing background for the difficulties in offering emotional and practical support, for the demands inherent in ensuring that a young child becomes socialized, has the opportunities needed to find her way amongst others of her age.
We did our part in attempting to instil a sense of personal responsibility, discipline, love of life and adventure, into this second child as we did with the first. Reading appropriate child-centered books was always a priority, taking them to various venues of entertainment and learning experiences such as science museums, galleries, playgrounds was another. We become intimately acquainted with all the many parks in our close neighbourhood, along with the other mothers and caregivers and their charges.
We did whatever we could to enrich her learning experiences, taking her to organized play groups, enrolling her in a pre-school and then volunteering there to enrich the process. She was enrolled at a local community arena, and given swimming lessons, we enrolled her in acrobatic classes (which she detested), in pottery-making (which was fun), but she adamantly refused to go to summer camp of any kind, so we were left to fill in the summer months once she became of school age, and filled in time day hiking, canoeing, picnicking, visiting area attractions.
Above all, I wished, desperately, that there were children on the street where we live of her age and her gender with whom she might find companionship, and this simply did not materialize. Yes, the neighbours on one side had a boy and a girl, but the girl was 5 years older than our granddaughter, and the boy, a mere year older, was a serious study in future thuggery and couldn't be trusted with her. Yes, the neighbours on the other side had a boy and a girl but they were even older than the others, albeit infinitely friendlier.
Finally, now that our granddaughter has moved with her mother to another area sufficiently distant from where we live that it is no longer practical, let alone feasible, that she be left in our care. Need I go on to explain that a year ago a family moved in down the street with a girl and a boy, and for a fleetingly brief time our granddaughter had a play companion in the little girl, before moving? And then another family with a young boy and girl moved in next to this first little girl. Finally, directly across from the two new families a third moved in with no fewer than three little girls ranging in age from 5 to 10.
The little girls have become friends with one another, and they have befriended us too, me and my husband, closing in on 70 years of age. The little girls of the newest family love to espie us out in the front garden and skip over to chat and follow us about. They inherited some of the stuffed animals and books that our granddaughter decided to leave behind. They've had a tour of our house and ask repeatedly if we can repeat the tour. I took photographs of two of the little girls, standing in our library.
Today, three-quarters of the way through our daily ramble in the ravine accessed at the top of our street, we heard young voices from a nearby intersecting trail, and soon made out a group of colourfully-clad little girls. One called out to us and we realized it was a group of the little girls from our street. They asked to join us and we agreed, and all of us walked through the remainder of the circuit, in the process teaching the children this particular trail.
They agreed when I suggested that any future such walks would be far more comfortable for them if they eschewed flip-flops for firmer, fitted shoes. We wondered between us, me and my husband, why five little girls from three separate families, all under age 9 were allowed to wander in the ravine unsupervised, and tried to explain to them that it would be a good idea if they always remembered, if they were planning to go into the ravine, to go as a group, never singly, or even just two of them, alone together.
Parents are busy, but among the three homes surely one parent could have spared an hour, or might have delegated the chaperoning to an older, capable child. It's that kind of world. Talking about it later, we agreed between us, me and my husband, that things are not now as they were fifty years ago when it was deemed safe to permit young children to wander at will.
He suggested that perhaps we're a trifle over-protective. It's possible.
posted by Pieface @ Monday, August 28, 2006
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