Grandma got her groove back

Bart and I had waited a long time for a grandchild that when our daughter announced a baby on the way, we were super excited. Before long, in fact, months before the baby was due, Bart blurted out we would do the babysitting ourselves. Knowing he isn’t the type to commit to that kind of responsibility, I was impressed. But what do you know? My husband conveniently forgot when the time came, that it was supposed to be the two of us doing this “Apostolic Mission” (a concocted term by Filipino Americans to mean sitting for their “apo” or grandchild). I ended up being the only one sitting for our dear Quincy, whose demands multiplied as he went into his third month.
While I truly enjoyed caring for my grandson, who seemed to know just when to flash the most charming smiles, I realized early on that it wasn’t and wouldn’t be just a walk in the park. I maust have forgotten that I was only in my 20’s when I had my three kids… and the fact that back in the Philippines, we could afford a nanny for each one of them. When we came here, they were 5, 6 and 7 years old, had some sense of independence and were ready for school. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t quite as hard as taking care of babies and toddlers.
Seeing how exhausted and sometimes exasperated I looked each day they came home from work, my daughter and son-in-law were worried that I might one day utter the dreaded words, “Sorry, but Lola is quitting.” Indeed, the thought crossed my mind a few times but remembering the reasons I had volunteered to do it, in the first place, makes the thought go away. The fear of bad things happening to this precious baby while in the care of a stranger gives this grandma that extra ounce of strength and resolve to carry on despite some brief moments of frustration when Quincy is inconsolable.

There, too, is the challenge of being there to lay down the foundation of his early childhood, of inculcating the ideals and values inherent in our culture. Starting him off with Tagalog lullabies to put him to sleep and talking to him in Pilipino as he smiles, giggles and coos in response are all it takes to convince me that my backaches at the end of the day must be coming from somewhere else and not from holding Quincy too long.
I used to wonder why people say you’ll love your grandchildren more than your own children. Now I know why that saying has been accepted by many, if not all – hook, line, and sinker. Babies are simply adorable. They smell and feel heavenly. They inspire us to do better and make us feel young again. They renew our life’s purpose and motivate us to live longer. They present us with the opportunity for a do-over, in case we want to go over the things we’ve missed teaching or passing on to our children.
I fancy the idea of seeing Quincy say “Po” and “Opo” (a respectful way of saying “yes” in Pilipino) to his elders or of kissing their hands (mano) just like my grandchildren from my nieces and nephews back home do. More than these physical manifestations of love and respect for his elders, I would like to see him grow up with a genuine love, care and respect for his parents, grandparents, uncles aunts and older cousins and older folks outside of the family.
A friend of mine once told me how impressed she was with her son’s fiancée, a Cambodian, who expressed her desire to take her grandparents into their home when they have settled down, to care for and look after them. She also wholeheartedly followed her parents’ wish to hold a traditional Cambodian wedding. She marveled at the fact that there were still second generation Asian Americans who are steeped in their traditions and values even as they have assimilated into the American culture.
I think that of all the Asians (although we have willingly submitted to the American classification of us as Pacific Islanders, I insist on our original classification as Asians) we Filipinos have the tendency to be more American in our ways and values. In our enthusiasm to assimilate, we tend to forget to keep what’s good in our culture and traditions. And as parents, I believe we have been remiss in our responsibility to stand our ground at home to preserve the family values and the heritage we hold dear.
Introducing Quincy to the best of Filipino values does not end in his learning to say “po” and “opo” , kissing the hands of the elderly or knowing how to speak in Tagalog. It’s a start but there’s a long road to tread in trying to educate him on the deeper values, the ones that count and make a Filipino a better person.
While our kids have picked up good American values too, foremost of which are their compassion, sense of equality and fairness, belief in education and competitiveness that earned them a measure of personal success, it will take some form of reorientation, such as spending a month in the Philippines, to learn about their roots and their heritage. But given their busy schedules, this is nothing but a whimsical idea.
Finally, it would be unfair not to mention, though, that as I carry out my Apostolic Mission, I have also learned and relearned a number of things myself. First, I realized just exactly how much my children’s nannies have done for me. I can’t put a price to the devotion and service they have given my kids and how they made my life very easy and comfortable. Second, I debunked the notion that I missed writing my columns for the past three issues because of Quincy. Poor child is not the one to blame for my mood and lack of motivation. On the contrary, I now found him to be a wellspring of inspiration and ideas. So, instead of me saying “Lola to the rescue,” it’s now “Quincy to the rescue.”
Yes, indeed, Quincy helped his Lola get her groove back. Thanks, Quincy!