Mr. Doubtfire

In the anthropological study that is being a stay at home mom, I have encountered an entirely new species. Among the usual mix of regular moms, stay at home dads, inattentive, over-dressed moms, distracted, Juicy-wearing moms, texting away on their cell phones, and nannies congregating around the suburban watering hole that is the playground, is The Grandpa.

More and more, as of late, I have been seeing men in their mid-sixties at my usual daily stops – library class, gymnastics and school drop off/pickup - with small children in tow. Over the course of time it became apparent to me, that these guys were not just there filling in for a sick parent, this was their regular gig. They are the childcare provider.

First I thought, “Way to go, Grandpa!”, thinking it very enlightened of these men, most of whom may have had very little hands-on experience caring for their own children, to take an active part in the raising of their grandchildren. I fell into the usual trap I complain about - heaping accolades on men when they do something women have been doing for years with little to no recognition - and thought it was going above the call of duty for these men to provide free, reliable childcare so their children could work. And then I found myself in close quarters with The Grandpa on a regular basis and I began to wonder if they really knew what they were getting into.

Now I am not saying these men can not care for their grandchildren well. I personally know grandfathers (my own and H’s dad included) who do a very fine job when they are on duty, but in my cultural study, it appears, at times, The Grandpa may have bitten off more than he can chew. While his former dad-unpreparedness - back in the 70’s, he would take the kids to the park with nothing but one clean diaper in his back pocket - has been replaced by his daughter or daughter in-law’s diaper bag prepped with snacks and water, Purrell and Band-aids, he lacks the physicality parenting small children requires. I can practically hear his vertebrae scraping together as he bends himself into a pretzel to retrieve Little Olivia from inside the tube slide. Trying to wrestle a two year old, who does not want to leave the library, into his coat, while the four year old incessantly asks for pretzels, and you can practically see it pass through his mind that spending the next ten years on the couch watching golf might not be as boring at is once seemed.

Having not been immersed in modern parenting culture of speak in a sing-song voice while disciplining, he is often the lone, yelling voice on the playground (other than yours truly, of course). He is not entirely sure how to interact with other parents when their grandchild is the one to hit or bite, not placating the offended mother with obsequious apologies. Everyone kind of averts their eyes. It is truly refreshing though to be around someone who hasn't had a big gulp of the "everybody wins" Kool Aid and has the adult children he raised to prove the validity of old school parenting.

God bless The Grandpa for trying. I have one in my life currently, that I interact with on a daily basis at Little Man’s preschool. The poor man is caring for twins. It seems every day he has some question about potty training or napping and I love him for being so proactive. If I thought that stay at home dads have it hard, at least they have the common denominator of their youth when hanging with the moms. The poor Grandpas have nothing. Knowing how lonely and boring the playground can be, I make an effort to engage any adult in at least some mundane banter. With Gramps, conversation can be quite difficult, as they usually interact with you as if you were their daughter. It makes it kind of awkward when you’re complaining about your contractor, thinking home improvement would be common ground, and he tells you you’re going about it all wrong.

So mad props to The Grandpas out there. While grandmas have been doing this practically since the dawn of time with no parade thrown in their honor, I am glad my son will grow up seeing even more men tying shoes and changing diapers. And while I joke about some of the quirks of this situation, don’t think for a hot minute I won’t be packing up the diaper bag for H’s dad once in a while after he retires next year.

You in, Pop?