Our mothers were the "baby whisperers." But times have changed (I'm told), and my daughter was not interested in the wise counsel I proffered after the birth of her first baby. I was crushed until I realized she wasn't rejecting me, only my "suggestions;" I could still be a loving Grannie.
Isn’t it a little late? Or not? I remember 35 myself — and the feeling I was finally old enough to know better and still young enough to enjoy it and thinking that was, perhaps, the definition of “Grown Up.”
Midst the many Christmas messages this year (achievements, grandchildren, retirement, travel) came several with sobering news of old friends’ untimely deaths. They’ve left me feeling diminished and particularly vulnerable.