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My Adult Son Thinks I’m a Selfish Granny
We can be hands-on grandparents, but we also deserve to have a social life and live the dreams we put on hold to raise our own children
Monica Garwood
Welcome to Ethels Tell All, where the writers behind The Ethel newsletter share their personal stories related to the joys and challenges of aging. Come back Wednesday each week for the latest piece, exclusively on AARP Members Edition.
My daughter had just brought out dessert for our annual Easter celebration when I overheard my oldest son in a heated disagreement with my husband. This was nothing new — the two argued frequently about sports and politics — but this time the air felt charged with something deeper. As their voices escalated, my husband’s cheeks flushed, and he slammed his cup down with a shout of “Enough!” My five young grandchildren were playing in the pool nearby but thankfully were unaware of the tension unfolding on the patio.
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My son jabbed a finger at us both. “Neither one of you calls or comes around to check on us. My kids hardly know you because you’re too selfish doing your own thing,” he said. “At least Katy’s parents call and visit several times a week. You guys don’t care enough to be active in your grandkids’ lives. I swear, I will never be like you when I’m a grandparent!”
I was too stunned to speak at first. I had offered to babysit countless times, only to be politely declined until I stopped asking. Scheduling dinner dates with them was next to impossible since their schedules were chaotic, so again, I got tired of making the effort.
Then anger bubbled up inside me as I recalled my son and his wife skipping last Thanksgiving and Christmas with us, choosing to spend the holidays with the in-laws instead. I remembered the sting of Mother’s Day passing without a call or visit from my son, adding to the invisible wedge I’d felt growing between us.
Ethels Tell All
Writers behind The Ethel newsletter aimed at women 55+ share their personal stories related to the joys and challenges of aging.
Before I knew it, my mouth opened, and what came out was a year’s worth of pent-up anger that I’d withheld for the sake of avoiding family friction. But my son didn’t back down. He was furious that my husband and I preferred spending our free time traveling or socializing with friends on the weekends rather than babysitting. I’d never thought anything of it — we’d been active seniors since becoming empty nesters, and I didn’t believe there was anything wrong with finally putting our interests before our kids, or even our grandkids.
We had worked hard and sacrificed much for our four children. Didn’t we deserve to reap the benefits of an empty nest and savor this new chapter of freedom?
But in my son’s eyes we had failed him, and I couldn’t deny the sense of guilt that nudged at my conscience.
Only then did I realize I was following in my own parents’ footsteps. They were rarely available to babysit, always off on trips or hosting lively gatherings with church friends.
I wished they had been more present for my kids, but I also admired their zest for life and the friendships they nurtured at their age. I never blamed them because I never doubted their love for their grandchildren. Did my son really doubt my love for him and his family?
Before I could ask, my daughter stepped in to defuse the situation. She told her brother that she’d decided long ago to be the first to reach out to us — that it was easier for her to call us at convenient times. Since my daughter’s schedule is more flexible than my son’s, she’s able to plan monthly dinners with us to stay connected.
My son was surprised to learn how involved I was with my daughter’s family and, again, accused me of ignoring his — without accepting his share of the blame for not reaching out to us.
I left the Easter gathering with my heart weighed down by hurt, anger and guilt, replaying my son’s words as we drove home. There was some truth in his accusations. I was closer to my daughter’s family, partly because she accepted my life as an empty nester and never judged my choices. But I realized I had expected the same acceptance from my son, forgetting that each child sees things differently. I knew I had to bridge the growing distance between us, to make more of an effort and heal what was broken.
The next morning, my son and I exchanged apologies for our harsh words. We talked for a long time and agreed that we both needed to carve out time for each other, no matter how busy life got. Since then, we’ve shared weekly chats, swapped silly memes, met for lunch, and we always end our conversations with “I love you.” I’ve also set aside time each month to spend with his children, and I realize now how much I missed them.
My husband and I may never be as hands-on as the in-laws, but my son understands this does not mean I love my grandchildren any less. For me, sharing an active, fulfilling life with my husband is just as important as spending time with my grandkids, and I have learned there is space for both.
It took time, but the gap between us is finally closing. I have my son back, and I think he sees now that his mother never left him; she’s been here all along, simply living the dream life she’s earned.
AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.
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