She gave my kids everything they wanted.
It didn’t matter how strict I was trying to be, she went behind my back and caved into their demands. A second helping of dessert, some candy before dinner, or a few more minutes of TV time, she just couldn’t seem to say “No” to anything.
She ruined my lessons on delayed gratification by buying whatever toys they were interested in at the moment. She held my babies in her arms and sang to them until they fell asleep, not respecting my desire for them to learn to go to bed on their own. If they made the tiniest peep, she ran to pick them up, stealing my lessons in self-soothing. I just knew my kids would turn out to be anxiety-ridden insomniacs because of her.
I resented her for buying my children the best and most expensive gifts for the holidays. I couldn’t compete with that, nor did I want to, but it bugged me to know that my kids’ favorite presents were from her.
I always felt that my children preferred her company to mine. Why wouldn’t they? She cooked their favorite foods and filled her house with treats. I tried to tell her that she shouldn’t try to buy their love, they should learn to be happy with nothing, but she didn’t listen. She just kept spoiling them.
She usurped pretty much all of my rules. She undermined my authority and ridiculed my strictness. In my mind, she was turning my children into spoiled brats, and I couldn’t get her to stop.
And then, she died.
And my children were devastated. They never mentioned missing the toys and money and food that she showered upon them. Instead, they missed HER.
They wanted her arms back to cuddle them. They wanted to hear her off-key voice singing them to sleep. They wanted to hear her say, “I love you,” over and over like a broken record. They wanted to share their lives and accomplishments with her and see her face light up again.
Now, when I sit in the bleachers watching games, there is no one to lean over to and whisper, “He’s the best player out there”. At the dance recitals, no one is taking hundreds of pictures of my daughters while tears run down her face. And yes, no one is baking special treats, relaxing all the rules, or telling my kids that they are perfect in every way.
I realized that all along she had been showing my kids what a Nana’s love looked like and it looked like home-baked cookies, TV shows on a school night, being held until you fell asleep and lipstick kisses. I wish I had recognized that before she was gone. I wish I’d known that it wasn’t a competition on who my children loved best. She was a blessing from the Father, He gave my kids someone who loved them with every atom in her body.
She hadn’t ruined them. She had blessed them in unimaginable ways. Her way of loving had been a huge part of creating the foundations my kids were building upon. I never understood that.
I wish I could tell her that I get it now. I wish I could tell her that I forgive her for all the spoiling she did. Instead of destroying my children, it was the making of them.
My kids want her back.
So do I.
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