Saw it, Told Grandma, Got it!

Saw it, Liked it, Told Grandma, Got It!

I saw that saying on a sign in an office yesterday.  I thought of a time my son was observing me play with my granddaughter.  He asked "Would you go and bring back my real mom?"  It was funny then and now.  He was referring to the way that parents often transform when they become grandparents.  The "transformation" is hard to understand until it happens to you.  In considering my role, I thought of the type of grandmother (Nani) I want them enjoy and remember for years to come.  I knew a few things like I would not be the apron wearing baking type of grandma or what some know as "Big Momma".  There is nothing wrong with either of those.  However, I don't bake and am not that domesticated.  I settled on being a Nani who helped them perfect good manners, to be kind to others, to be patient, to be honest and always be true to themselves.  Of course, there was also the fine dining, clearance and shoe shopping....but that's another blog!

I thought of growing up with my grandmothers and how different they were.  Reflecting on them helped me to focus more on what being a good Nani means to me.  I do not want to overstep my boundaries and interfere or contradict my son and daughter-in-love's parenting in any way.  In fact, I want to support them unconditionally.  After all, I am grateful to them for my little princess (Amani) and my misters (Levi & Lyrik).  Likewise, I want to assist them in any way I can.  

Ultimately, I want my son and grandchildren to really know, understand, learn from and enjoy me.  I want them to know I love them in ways they can't even imagine.  I want them to learn how to be supportive of their family while still nurturing their own interests.  I want them to learn how to love themselves as well as others.  I want them to enjoy the life that has been bestowed to them.  Yes, sometimes that does mean "saw it, liked it, told Nani, got it!".

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Unexpected Observation

I patiently sat there waiting to hear my name.  Undergoing an annual mammogram is something that I have accepted as part of aging gracefully.  I looked around the room vaguely listening to the chatter.  I observed an Asian woman of about 45 years of age.  She had brought someone with her as an interpreter.  The Caucasian women seemingly ranged in age from around 40 to perhaps 70 or so.

Everyone smiled pleasantly as they engaged in conversation.  There did not seem to be any anxiety associated with the screening we were all there to receive. Regardless of our socioeconomic statuses, professions, or life issues – we were all concerned about our health.  We were all there taking a preventative measure to insure our breast health.  

It occurred to me that illness, specifically breast cancer, is not exclusive.  It does not just affect the wealthy or the poor.  It does not care if one is male or female, African American, Caucasian, Hispanic or Asian.  It does not care what type of family one has.  

Although we are all different in so many ways, our similarity was obvious.  Each woman was beautiful.   I was touched to see such different women seemingly interested in the same thing... Living.

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