Are the second and third grandchildren doted less upon, much as the second and third child seem to be?
In our own grandparenting, we think so. Now make no mistake, each one is generously loved! Each one we would lay down our lives for.
But spend as much money on as the first?
We had to apply the brakes a little. The second "shift" came in almost as twins, very close in age. The very first grandchild had us to herself, when the sky seemed more the limit.
We so enjoyed giving her experiences. Ramon (otherwise known as Grandpa) noted during his work in the Twin Cities different places to bring her back to on the weekends. Each excursion involved considerable thought and expense, but nothing made him happier than outings we could go on together that we were each enthusiastic about. We went to museums, shopping malls, zoos, carnivals, ethnic markets and celebrations, all kinds on mini road trips.
Once Grandpa went all out to buy new camping gear to try "roughing it," something we hadn't done with our own children. That appealed to me less than ever so I encouraged they two should go and I would happily stay home.
He loves to tell the story of that camping trip, what a beautiful place it was and all they did. He decided to top off their final day by visiting a store he knew she would love. The caveat to her was that she should know he was done spending money for now, the camping trip having been squeezed in between all kinds of other recent outings and purchases for her.
This was Grandpa's weak attempt to teach her limitations, that the sky was NOT the limit, that she could sometimes have desirable things in front of her that she could not have, that the world would keep spinning if she had to do without one more figurine of a barnyard (or wildlife) creature.
The thing was Grandpa KNEW ahead he would buy her another one, to add to the hundred or so he had bought for her before. Each one was only about five-dollars, and he isn't really the type to torture the child OR himself, over her unrequited longing for a five-dollar thing in a store she probably wouldn't have the chance of seeing again anytime soon.
But he just had to lay out ahead, an expansive explanation that a lot of money had been spent recently, and he now only had "a few dollars left for the gas home" in his pocket.
She wasn't buying that. In her few years of experiences with Grandpa, she knew he had more money burning a hole in his pocket, for her. And this store had something she hadn't seen before (well of course it did), a trailer to pull her little horses in. So, when the moment hit, he said, "Well, we can buy the gas to get home, or we can buy this trailer. Which should it be?"
She chose the trailer. He pulled out the funding. When they left the building, he filled up the gas tank and drove them both home.
To her credit she was five and to his discredit, he was probably fifty-five. We're very grateful she (over time) also witnessed his hard-work ethic and absorbed that influence too!
Fast-forward to our "second shift" in grandparenting, the more recent years. We both pretty much retired our jobs toward the purpose of helping out with them, so it wasn't like we didn't know what we were getting into. The first one taught us what to expect, as did our responses to her.
We told ourselves we were going to have to rein ourselves in. Now it would be two of everything to purchase, and four in admissions to everywhere. It was almost like parenting all over again, on a fixed income. We could still do the occasional bigger thing, but it was now going to be more parks and picnics, more fast-food than real restaurants, more natural world experiences than commercial amusement extravaganzas.
We were going to be cheap, but it was still going to be good.
One of the earlier summers I do remember finishing up a small excursion with a stop into the local big box store to let the two pick a "five-dollar" something from the toy aisle. Many years had elapsed from the first grandchild to these, but funny how that amount still seemed reasonable to Grandpa and me!
We soon saw that it wasn't. The only thing the kids could see in that range was a strange little "gimmick" object in an "eggshell" that "hatched" into a surprise animal. There were dozens of them. Seeing that the future could evolve into a "collection," I shrewdly decided to read the label for clues on how not to collect the same animal more than once.
I saw nothing helpful on this, so I called over an employee to ask what he knew about things. Mostly I wanted to know how going forward we could avoid purchasing repeat objects, again and again. I added to include how the PARENTS might avoid this, this possible beginning of a thing the grandparents got everyone into!
He too read the packaging and confirmed my greatest fear: we could well end up with multiple repeats. This I could not have! Here was a battle between the shrewdness of myself, and the shrewdness of the creator of said gimmick. I knew I would have to be strong in the sight of sweet and hopeful smiles, but I did it anyway. I said to them, "Kids, this is like the toy in your meal when we pick up hamburgers, except you don't get the hamburger."
Poor things. They (and Grandpa too) had no choice but to follow me, out the door, to the car, to the so-called "dollar store," which I hear tell is currently considering a reboot to the "dollar and a half" store.
They were little. Everything looked better than it was, and they could now pick five things instead of one! They liked the store so much it was like a new "ticket" to entertainment for many more times going forward.
But even those days now are in the rear-view mirror. We played several years of roulette in what will it be this week, will we take them on a real trip that involves real lodging and real expenses, or will it just be hikes on our trails with lunches on the porch? Will we camp in a real camper-trailer and stay overnight places (we did, for a time), or will we just go to lunch and a children's museum for a day and call it good?
We did plenty with them too, and the time has flown. It has whizzed by so fast Grandpa in particular has had a time of it, letting go of their "littleness."
He has said to me time and again, "I'll be alright when the time comes, because I learned from having a daughter, and then the first granddaughter, what happens. All of sudden we're not their world anymore, and I will be okay when it happens."
This from the guy I watched once, hauling with his bicycle a buggy, the "second shift" tucked in, so big by then their rear ends almost sparked the gravel on the way out.
On the way out to wherever they were going, on the way back to NOW. Mostly just Ramon and I, keeping busy, but often taking the time to watch the world drive by from the porch. Where we're now living out (in the words of the John Conlee song): "That old rockin' chair don't scare me like it used to; it doesn't matter as long as I'm rockin' with you."
"It's all good" is like a miracle--something unexpected happening in a needed and beautiful way.
We dreaded a window of time but found we love this one, too.
