"Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But since no one was listening, every thing must be said again." André Gide
Nothing gives more validity to this quote than when I step into the role of Grandma-Nanny.
I am loving, playful, unconditional and accepting, smother them with kisses and hugs Grandmother; I am a "Let's play a game," or "Come jump on the trampoline," kind of Grandma.
This is who I am and what I do...until I'm in charge--especially at bedtime.
Be afraid.
For me.
I must force the little people to come home from the neighbor's backyard; I must coerce them into brushing their teeth. Even pajama changes can be brutal. Trying to make the little boys stay calm in their bunk beds. And worst of all: leaving the littlest one belting out tears as I shut her bedroom door.
Fortunately these occasions are rare. But not rare enough.
"Theo," I'm standing on the grandchildren's trampoline in their yard, looking over the fence at the most defiant six-year-old on the planet. "It's time to come home."
"No."
"Theo come home right now."
"No."
I think of my own grandmother and what she would have done if I'd ever had the stupidity and lame-courage to tell her "No."
The old Swiss woman in a bun, always in a dress and wearing ugly-nurse shoes, would have grabbed me by the ear and hauled me into the house or the bathtub or the dinner table. I would have been shook for life. Once, I did in fact watch her haul a disobedient cousin by her ponytail into the house.
"Okay Theo, you come right now or I'm coming to get you."
"Come and get me."
I channel the power of my Swiss Grandma as my humored anger inflames. I climb off the trampoline and march through the gate, around the back yard but not before I notice him turn around and run.
By the time I reach the neighbor's yard he is hopping the fence after a few attempts via trampoline transfer.
He's now in a mood.
And everything must be said again and again. How long will my patience last?
I need to change tactics--fast. Fortunately I have a weapon: ignore little defiant Theo and focus all my attention on his older brother, who lucky for me, is cooperating.
Within minutes--game over. He gives into pajamas, even settles close to the bunk bed. I think he brushes his teeth.
André Gide may be right, but what does a person do when the subject is listening?
Be silent.
~~
Years later, my cousins and I meet for lunch. Our grandmother becomes the subject of conversation. I share my memories of her and the lasting impression of her mean streak.
The cousin who I remember getting hauled via ponytail, says, "I only remember her as warm and loving. My memories of her are the best."
This gives me hope that when needed, Grandma-nanny can be tough — and still loved.
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