This weekend, my mother put in a formal request for grandchildren. Upon seeing one of the women she graduated with at a department store on Mother’s Day, and looking at the pictures of her grandchildren on her cell phone, my mother smacked me and said, “I’m still waiting.” That’s about as formal as one can be while requesting grandchildren.
And as we walked past the children’s department and all the onesies with duckies and flowers and balloons, she gave me puppy dog eyes, and for once, the roles were reversed.
Children are the ones that usually want things from their parents – in 4th grade it was black high-tops, in junior high it was NIKE everything, in high school it was American Eagle, and in college it was eating money. Not to mention all the requests for certain foods from the grocery store, electronics, time time time. Kids always want things from their parents.
And in return, parents just want their children to grow up right, to lead good lives, and to learn to support themselves… Until you’re 26, and you’ve accomplished those things, and they look at you and say, “So, what’s next?”
For 26 years, my parents gave me things – things I wanted, asked for, things I didn’t want or ask for but needed, things and things and things. They were always giving and never asking for anything in return. And it’s weird to think now that only my brother and I can give them what they want next (not my brother and I together, of course, but with our significant others). Both of my parents want grand kids.
I told her I could have her one in about 9 months, but I think she prefers I get married first. And call me old-fashioned, but I prefer that, too. I’d love to give my parents grandchildren. I’d love to give myself children. I’d love to give a man children.
It’s just not in the cards right now. 😦