The End of an Era

 Social media sites are teeming this week with what feels like obligatory first day of school photos.  Were I to paw through my photo albums (yes, I still have albums and indeed I recognize the photographs should be transferred to digital format), I'd uncover the obligatory first day of school photos I took of my children, standing in front of the house, smiling at their mother's urging.  So, nothing new.

For documentation purposes, here are the 8 grands on their first day...



Jackson, 6th grade
Beau, 4th grade
Ethan, 4th grade and Millie, 8th grade


Georgia, 3rd grade

Sloane, 3rd grade

I want to focus on these two guys, however.  They are the end of the era for me--the end of the preschool years that began with my taking the Grands to Early Childhood Family Education (ECFE) classes; transporting them to and from various preschools, experiencing the joy of pick up when they hollered, "Grandma!" and jumped into my arms as if I was the best thing they'd seen.  Every.  Single.  Time.

So here they are, Ace, born in 2019 and Jameson, born in 2018.  

Their birth years are salient because shortly after they were born, as they were sailing out of infancy into toddlerhood, COVID smacked us down for months.  Of course I couldn't cuddle my other grandchildren during that time period, but they were preschoolers or school aged by then.  There is just something so critically precious about those first two years.  Watching them as they learn to walk, talk, feed themselves.  Hearing them begin to talk.  You might see them on Friday, and by the next Friday they've developed some new skill that they want nothing more than to show off to you (even if it's with parental urging).  Pushing them in the stroller.  Singing to them as you rock them to sleep, that unduplicatable scent as you raise them to your shoulder and they snuggle in.

Yes, we FaceTimed.  Not the same.  Grandpa dressed up as Santa and we rang their doorbell on Christmas Eve.  We waved at them through their front windows on Christmas morning.  Fun, but not the same.

I was afraid that by the time we were able to gather indoors, Jamo and Ace wouldn't recognize me.  They wouldn't hold up their arms to be lifted into mine.  Grandma would mean nothing to them.  

As for many families, I think, these guys made up for lost time when the danger of transmission diminished (people are still getting COVID).  Of course there were hugs and kisses.  I was back on Grandma Patrol with them, which is slowing down and is at the least different from the preschool years when I'd bring them home for lunch and read them a story before nap time.  In Minnesota, not only do we feed children breakfast and lunch for free, there is--and has been since 2014--free all day kindergarten, so no need for mid-day pick up.

No one naps anymore, except for me.  And Grandpa.

They've got their own agendas, as well they should, although occasionally I can convince Ace or Jamo into doing Grandma generated and led activities.  Both will once in a while allow me to snuggle in with them when they go to sleep.  

Yet, still.  This is an end of an era for me.  Even with the disruption of COVID, what a simply marvelous era it has been.

Onward and upward.








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