The dust on the holidays has finally settled. I can look around my house and only see a few scraps of wrapping paper peeking out from the corners of the living room. All the cookies have been eaten and I’m done fat shaming myself (almost). However, the kids are still rocking a mean Grandparent Hangover. Actually, I’m going to label it the Grandma Hangover because they are the ones with their literal hands in the cookie jar most often.
What does the Grandma Hangover look like? It’s a mixture of screeching when a snowflake lands on their face and punching the cat for looking at them. It’s the result of being treated like they are the second-comings of Christ and rules simply do not apply to godlike beings such as themselves.
Since the kids had a dose of every single grandparent this past week, it’s reached a climax never before seen by human eyes. My daughter actually snarled at me when I tried to take a cookie from her that she helped herself to without asking. I pulled my hand back in complete expectation of drawing back a stub.
So, wouldn’t a normal, rational parent nix the copious amounts of grandparent spoiling in order to retain control on their feral children? Wouldn’t it just make sense to limit the time spent with their faces covered in lipstick smooches and mouths full of Hershey’s?
It would make sense, but I’ll be damned if I’m doing it.
Here’s the reasons I’m willing to live in utter fear of my offspring for a few days if it means time with Grandmas and Grandpas:
- Free childcare. When my mom walks in the door, I feel like I can finally let my guard down. She is the number one person who can swoop in and handle her shit. She won’t let the kids eat her alive and I can drink hot coffee and wash my hair. Win-win.
- Kids get to do fun stuff. Sure, I know I need to be doing finger painting, papier-mâché, glitter, and beads more often, but I can’t handle that shit. The exhaustion of buying, orchestrating, teaching, learning, cleaning, gluing, cutting and so on is enough to put me in a padded room. Grandmas? They do that crap for fun. It’s fuel for their little Grandma hearts. God bless them.
- Advice I didn’t ask for. Wait, this is a pro? Yes, yes, my dears, it is. If you’re anything like me, a stubborn asshole, asking for help is not in your DNA. You’d go down in a blaze of glory before you admit you need help figuring out what diaper cream works best or how much we should be putting in retirement. That’s where grandparents come into play. They are the first to tell you how you’re doing shit wrong and what the right way to do anything is. Before you let your blood boil, take it, and maybe, just maybe they know something. Or they’re crazy and tell you to give your babies whiskey (sorry, Grandma) and you just laugh and pluck your baby out of their laps. Either way.
- Help with crap I don’t know how to do. Once the kids are nestled or passed out in their beds, there’s time for me to get help being a grown-up. Like when I thought it would be easy to make tie blankets for the babies for Christmas since I have absolutely no idea how to craft. Since I have never even bought fabric in my lifetime, I naturally bought the wrong kind. In swooped my mother-in-law to sew that shit up like a Christmas elf and saved me just one holiday meltdown. Or when my husband was stuck in 20 below zero weather with two flat tires, my dad was there lickety split with two new tires, a jack and handled shit like only dad knows how.
- Endless memories. One of the truths we have to endure during life is that our grandparents aren’t here forever. There is nothing I cherish more than my memories with my grandparents. Most have passed on and those memories are all I have left of them. I want my kids to stay up late hearing about school when their grandparents were little. I want them to know life before computers and the utter rat race life has become. I want them to have that love forever. Those memories are worth whatever bloodshed I experience the next three to four days following their visits. Those memories are worth their weight in gold.
What other ways to Grandma and Grandpa make it worth having assholes for a few days?
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