The Guardian Grandmother

I am a good student. Completely educable. I have already learned several things. Guardians of 3 year olds in peril need laugh lines. Laugh lines are to keep your face from cracking when you both collapse with the giggles over a misdirected stream in the potty training arena. Also needed are graying hair and colorful hats. Both are necessary to impress the people at the bakery section, in order to entice them into giving out free cookies (I did mention unemployed). In order for this maneuver to work, the child should be wearing the colorful hat at a jaunty angle. Feather boas are optional.

There is true work involved also, not every minute is fun and games. Miss Pickles came to us sick. She was coughing so hard and for so long that she would vomit. I have no legal papers at this time to allow me to get her insured. We met another Guardian, the doctor who agreed to see her on my word that I would pay when I could. He put himself in peril with the HMO he works for to care for her. He could be dropped as a care provider. He gave us "samples" that looked remarkably like he might have just picked them up from the pharmacy himself. He told me she was about 15 minutes away from pneumonia and he was grateful that I could put down pride and get her help. I will not forget this man, nor will I forget that the payments must be made. I am learning how to be part of the Guardian Network.

Nightmares have raised their heads in Miss Pickles dreamtime. Guardian Grammies must be able to hear with their hearts. To be ready to wrap a scared little girl in their arms and sing the old songs of comfort. Summertime, Jesus Loves Me, and If You Wish Upon a Star work well for me. For us. During waking hours there is work to be done, games to play, love to build and give away. Tools to keep nightmares away. She has taught me these things. Sometimes she gives pop quizzes and I am grateful for having studied well.

Guardian Grandmothers must also learn that it is acceptable to let the child take the reins in times of need. For three months Miss Pickles has been with her mother in another state. I felt helpless to help and was having nightmares of my own. My health was getting worse due to worry. My daughter has an illness of her own and is incapable of a strong emotional bond. She cannot see past her own needs in the moment. Miss Pickles recognized her peril and began a strategic series of battles to get herself to safety. First she reneged on potty training that had been complete when we took her to her mom's. Second she decided she liked to sing very loudly between the hours of 4-7 a.m. Her final, and I must say my favorite, maneuver was to tell every person she and her mother saw in public that her mother was flatulent often. Although the remarkable flatulence is in question, the public shouting of it was her ticket home. Way to go Miss Pickles! Three year olds are SMART.

Finally, Guardian Grandmothers will find that they are stronger, happier, feel younger, and smile more when they are incredibly busy doing things they absolutely cannot do. May it continue to be so.