I’ve probably mentioned before that we live near my parents — basically around the corner, in fact. This was an intentional decision on our part, with our future children in mind — my parents did an amazing job with their children, in my humble opinion (!), and I also had the gift and privilege of helping my mom quite a bit with my much younger sisters when I was growing up; just about everything I know and believe about being a mom specifically and bringing up children generally has been informed by helping my own mom and watching both my parents navigate parenthood at all stages of their kids’ growing up. Additionally, I grew up around the corner from both my grandmothers, and I wanted my children to have a close relationship with their grandparents, too.
(Though this piece is about my parents, I do want to mention that my mother-in-law was also amazing — she lived farther away and passed away several years ago, but my older boys have wonderful memories of our weekly visits with her as well as the summer sleepovers and trips and events we shared with her. Unfortunately, my father-in-law died long before I even met my husband, but I know he was wonderful, too.)
Over the last almost-eighteen years, my mom and dad could not have come through for us bigger or better than they have. The help they’ve provided has been absolutely indispensable, and the relationships they’ve built with each of my kids is absolutely priceless.
I was thinking about all this recently because this spring has been particularly challenging and, as usual, my parents were right there to fill in the gaps and help us keep track of everything and everyone. I was fortunate enough to start a job last summer that allows me to work a few evenings a week, which was perfect for our family schedule until the middle of April, when baseball started. My job follows the college semester class schedule, so I’m off from May 5 until the summer session, but between the beginning of baseball and May 5 was a few-week period where I had four boys playing baseball, all on different teams, and their fields were East Side Rec, Gavin Park, and Geyser Road (it would be impossible to find three parks farther apart within Saratoga, am I right?). And they all had to be at their fields somewhere between 4:30 and 5:30, which is exactly when I had to leave for work (my husband doesn’t get home from work until 6:30 at the earliest). I also had another boy running track, and another involved in the drama productions at school, all of which take place in the late afternoon and evening.
Mom and Dad totally saved us. For those few weeks, I wrote out a daily schedule for them of who had to be where, at what time, and when they had to be picked up, and they didn’t bat an eye, and I had complete confidence that my boys were taken care of when I couldn’t be there to do it myself.
Then, on Mother’s Day we discovered that COVID had finally found us, and for a solid two weeks I texted my dad every morning with our grocery needs for the day, complete with screenshots of exactly what I was asking for, and he’d drop the groceries off on our porch a little while later, one hundred percent exactly right. Mom left Stewart’s milkshakes and big jugs of Hawaiian Punch on our porch for all of us, which could not have been more perfect. Both of them checked in with us several times a day to see if we needed anything and to check on how we were doing. When I thanked Dad for doing such a great job, his response was, “That’s what dads do.” When I thanked Mom for bringing us treats, she thanked me for allowing her to feel like Santa Claus, bringing joy with her goodies. Absolutely amazing.
Beyond the help that they’ve always offered is the way they’ve both fostered relationships with each of my boys. For example, my mom has one boy over after school each week — they take turns — and they stay for a few hours, during which, in addition to the time spent together talking and hanging out, they bake a dessert to bring home. They call it “having a turn at Nannie’s,” and they all count the weeks until it’s their turn. Since it starts for each boy when they start Kindergarten, my littlest guy hasn’t been included yet, so when I told him recently that my mom was going to be coming over to stay with him while I went out, his eyes lit up and he said excitedly, “Like *a turn*??” (Which is also a sign of the times — my mom often stayed with my older boys when they were little and I had to go out for appointments or errands or whatever, but because of the pandemic, my youngest has never really had that — I’m so happy he can finally have his grandmother time!)
Another example is my dad’s break-of-dawn Saturday morning car rides. What started as a way for him to have one-on-one time with his own kids has grown to include my boys, and they LOVE it. He picks up the boy whose turn it is at 5:45 on Saturday morning and they go for a couple-hour ride on all the back roads and out-of-the-way routes our beautiful area has to offer, picking up breakfast along the way. Their chats run the gamut from sports to school to job and college advice, and both Dad and the boys like to report back to me about their rides — the wildlife they saw, the beautiful sunrise, the topics of conversation. It’s hard to know who loves it more, Poppie or his grandsons!
Grandparents’ Day is celebrated in September but given that we’re kind of halfway between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day right now, and the crazy spring my family has had, it seems an appropriate time to recognize my parents for their amazingness. We’d be lost without them!
Kate and her husband have seven sons ages 17, 15, 13, 12, 10, 8, and 3. Email her at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..
