I originally considered calling this book “Please Don’t Call Me a Babysitter.” Not because I have anything against babysitters—heck, I regularly care for my grandchildren in the absence of their parents. I resist the term because it doesn’t begin to describe what grandparents are to our grandchildren. I contend we do far more than just “babysit,” though that has become a term I often hear nowadays in the context of time grandparents spend with their grandchildren. Consider instead that along with being caretakers, we are role models, teachers, historians, storytellers, confidants, mentors, and most importantly, trusted examples of how to love and be loved.
Of course, I didn’t understand the potential of the role when my first grandchild was born. I was at the top of my thirty-plus-year career as a business executive. I continued working five more years (and welcoming several more grandchildren) before I elected to step down from my management position—I wanted to take my foot off the corporate gas pedal, so to speak (still unaware of what was in store for me as a grandparent).
For retirement, my intention was to focus more on myself, a common choice for women who have worked for years trying to have it all, family and career. I started planning for my retirement years. The theme would be balance. I would enjoy the freedom to take better care of my health, exercise on a regular basis, start meditating, and reconnect with my friends and social relations, while staying professionally active with some consulting and business coaching assignments. Oh yes, and travel! It all sounds great, right? A nice balance to it. I felt quite confident that my last chapter was well-defined and sensibly planned out.
But my plans changed. I found something more compelling and much more rewarding: my grandkids.
I knew I wouldn’t be content with being just a babysitter to my grandchildren: playing simple games with them, watching them play in the park for hours, sitting with them as they colored at my kitchen table. Since I was a businesswoman with a tendency to go all in, I went all in with my grandchildren, mining what I learned in the corporate world for their benefit. The result was Camp Grandma, where I teach my grandchildren about the world we live in, as you will see from the activities outlined in this book.
But my grandchildren have taught me as well, perhaps more, if truth be told. I have learned some unexpected and invaluable lessons from them. This reciprocal learning between us—this exchange of wisdoms and experiences—has enriched my life, along with the lives of my grandchildren, measurably and immeasurably.
I didn’t recognize the symbiotic relationship between kids and grandparents before I had grandchildren. And it didn’t hit me all at once. It took time being in their good company. They opened my eyes. When they were born, I knew I would love them. After all, they’re the children of my own two children. But did I understand the power of this perfect match? No way—I didn’t see it coming.
Maybe it’s because of this special symmetry I’ve discovered between grandparents and grandchildren, and the fact of it being such a revelation, that I have to share it. When such riches lie just under the surface—almost in plain sight—we must be encouraged to see them. There is potential to be fulfilled in our later years, more than I ever imagined. And if you’re a grandparent, it’s right there under your nose.