“Yay! The letter ‘A’ is my favorite!” Ainsley exclaims with delight.
We are sitting on my front stoop drawing with chalk. I’d made a gigantic pink “A” and outlined it in bright blue. Ainsley is hard at work drawing her version of the letter. “You have to remember to connect the lines, Auntie,” she says to me with great seriousness, her tiny hands carefully making a dozen vertical lines in yellow chalk and then crossing each one for good measure.
Ainsley, my three-and-a-half year old niece, is often serious about the things that matter: Snacks and monster trucks and the toy chicken that she lost the other day and misses very much. Her seriousness makes her especially thoughtful and wise. But I’m also noticing lately that when she smiles, it’s like watching a sunrise, its warmth radiating on blast, turning everyone in the room into mush.
If I sound more bubbie than auntie, it’s because I kind of am. Ainsley is my starter grandchild and boy, am I loving it. And I’m not the only one. This past weekend, my teenagers spent an hour playing hide and seek with her, including the 16-year-old with a busier social schedule than a Kardashian; he hid all 5 feet, 10 inches of himself behind the door of his room for 15 minutes until Ainsley “found” him.
“Oh Ainsley,” we all say, “you are so cute.”
And she is. But she’s more than that. She’s funny and gentle and wildly observant. “I just heard something,” she said to me out on the stoop, stopping everything, putting her chalk down to listen.
“Was it the train?” I ask.
She shakes her little blond ponytail, a heart clip keeping the hair in place. “Nope, it’s not the train.” She turns the side of her head up, to hear better.
“Was it a plane?’
Another negative from the pony. “Not a plane.”
“Maybe it was that crow over there?” I say, gesturing to the black bird balancing on the top of a nearby tree.
“Yes!” she says, like I’ve solved the greatest mystery ever. She rewards me with the sunrise and I bask in it as there is no other choice. Ainsley sighs with satisfaction and gets back to her chalk work, “I love crows,” she says maybe to me, but I think maybe just to the universe, or to the crows.
“Me too,” I say. “I love crows, too.” We talk about how crows love their families so much. How they live together in great big ones.
Speaking of family, Ainsley’s mom is my 14-years younger sister, Jenni. She was my starter baby, long before my own kids were on the scene. From Jenni, I learned how much responsibility children were, how they never slept or ate or acted exactly as you wanted them to. And also, how adorable and loving they were. But mostly, as a teenager taking care of her, changing her diapers and lugging her to the park, she was an effective reminder to always use birth control.
My starter baby taught me that children are a responsibility.
When my own children came along, they reinforced how much of a responsibility being a parent was, of course, but this time I was sharing that load with my equally devoted husband and it allowed me to relax and enjoy them, too. To fall completely in love with them. To play and listen and dance and be silly. But still, there were (and still are) dishes to be done and places to be driven and life lessons to be taught. After all, we are making people over here and we need to get it right.
My own babies taught me that children are a responsibility and a joy.
With Ainsley, I’m now peering into the magic portal of grandchildren. Becoming an aunt to her at this stage of my life, as my own children are getting ready to leave the nest, is allowing me to simply be present — for the chalk, the talk and yes, for the crows.
With Ainsley, I’m now peering into the magic portal of grandchildren. Becoming an aunt to her at this stage of my life, as my own children are getting ready to leave the nest, is allowing me to simply be present — for the chalk, the talk and yes, for the crows. Ainsley has two devoted parents, so all I have to do is love her and watch her bloom right in front of me. And also read books and blow bubbles and run around the grass until we collapse in a heap of laughter.
My starter grandbaby is teaching me that children can simply be joy.
I’m one lucky mom/aunt/bubbie. I can’t wait to witness all the joy to come for Ainsley. And she’s also made me excited to one day be an actual grandmother — in the very distant future, of course.
Now if only my knees will hold out.
Geralyn Broder Murray is a Northern California-based writer whose work has appeared in Newsweek, USA Today and Shondaland. www.GeralynBMurray.com @GeralynBMurray
In Praise of Starter Grandchildren
Geralyn Broder Murray
“Yay! The letter ‘A’ is my favorite!” Ainsley exclaims with delight.
We are sitting on my front stoop drawing with chalk. I’d made a gigantic pink “A” and outlined it in bright blue. Ainsley is hard at work drawing her version of the letter. “You have to remember to connect the lines, Auntie,” she says to me with great seriousness, her tiny hands carefully making a dozen vertical lines in yellow chalk and then crossing each one for good measure.
Ainsley, my three-and-a-half year old niece, is often serious about the things that matter: Snacks and monster trucks and the toy chicken that she lost the other day and misses very much. Her seriousness makes her especially thoughtful and wise. But I’m also noticing lately that when she smiles, it’s like watching a sunrise, its warmth radiating on blast, turning everyone in the room into mush.
If I sound more bubbie than auntie, it’s because I kind of am. Ainsley is my starter grandchild and boy, am I loving it. And I’m not the only one. This past weekend, my teenagers spent an hour playing hide and seek with her, including the 16-year-old with a busier social schedule than a Kardashian; he hid all 5 feet, 10 inches of himself behind the door of his room for 15 minutes until Ainsley “found” him.
“Oh Ainsley,” we all say, “you are so cute.”
And she is. But she’s more than that. She’s funny and gentle and wildly observant. “I just heard something,” she said to me out on the stoop, stopping everything, putting her chalk down to listen.
“Was it the train?” I ask.
She shakes her little blond ponytail, a heart clip keeping the hair in place. “Nope, it’s not the train.” She turns the side of her head up, to hear better.
“Was it a plane?’
Another negative from the pony. “Not a plane.”
“Maybe it was that crow over there?” I say, gesturing to the black bird balancing on the top of a nearby tree.
“Yes!” she says, like I’ve solved the greatest mystery ever. She rewards me with the sunrise and I bask in it as there is no other choice. Ainsley sighs with satisfaction and gets back to her chalk work, “I love crows,” she says maybe to me, but I think maybe just to the universe, or to the crows.
“Me too,” I say. “I love crows, too.” We talk about how crows love their families so much. How they live together in great big ones.
Speaking of family, Ainsley’s mom is my 14-years younger sister, Jenni. She was my starter baby, long before my own kids were on the scene. From Jenni, I learned how much responsibility children were, how they never slept or ate or acted exactly as you wanted them to. And also, how adorable and loving they were. But mostly, as a teenager taking care of her, changing her diapers and lugging her to the park, she was an effective reminder to always use birth control.
My starter baby taught me that children are a responsibility.
When my own children came along, they reinforced how much of a responsibility being a parent was, of course, but this time I was sharing that load with my equally devoted husband and it allowed me to relax and enjoy them, too. To fall completely in love with them. To play and listen and dance and be silly. But still, there were (and still are) dishes to be done and places to be driven and life lessons to be taught. After all, we are making people over here and we need to get it right.
My own babies taught me that children are a responsibility and a joy.
With Ainsley, I’m now peering into the magic portal of grandchildren. Becoming an aunt to her at this stage of my life, as my own children are getting ready to leave the nest, is allowing me to simply be present — for the chalk, the talk and yes, for the crows. Ainsley has two devoted parents, so all I have to do is love her and watch her bloom right in front of me. And also read books and blow bubbles and run around the grass until we collapse in a heap of laughter.
My starter grandbaby is teaching me that children can simply be joy.
I’m one lucky mom/aunt/bubbie. I can’t wait to witness all the joy to come for Ainsley. And she’s also made me excited to one day be an actual grandmother — in the very distant future, of course.
Now if only my knees will hold out.
Geralyn Broder Murray is a Northern California-based writer whose work has appeared in Newsweek, USA Today and Shondaland. www.GeralynBMurray.com @GeralynBMurray
Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.
Editor's Picks
Israel and the Internet Wars – A Professional Social Media Review
The Invisible Student: A Tale of Homelessness at UCLA and USC
What Ever Happened to the LA Times?
Who Are the Jews On Joe Biden’s Cabinet?
You’re Not a Bad Jewish Mom If Your Kid Wants Santa Claus to Come to Your House
No Labels: The Group Fighting for the Political Center
Latest Articles
Chosen Links – May 21, 2024
Unexpected Lessons from a Gardening Project
‘Heshing’ It Out With ‘Sopranos’ Star Jerry Adler
It’s Not Good to Be Alone
Defining Terms in the Middle East
Bibi vs Gantz: Constructive Ambiguity
Culture
Jewish Actress Perfectly Depicts Amy Winehouse in Disappointing ‘Back to Black”
American Football in Israel Visiting LA During Hopeful Olympics Tour
Eitan Bernath: Exploring the Jewish Kitchens of Mexico, Food on Social Media and Egg Salad
Aliza Lavie’s ‘Iconic Jewish Women’ Inspires and Empowers
Let’s Play ‘Name That Tyrant!’ (A Quiz)
In this week’s column, readers will test how well they know the modern history of despots and atrocities.
Finding Our Inner Jew
We are warriors against those who wish us harm, we are transmitters of light and seekers of justice, and we never apologize for being proud members of an ancient tribe.
An American Tragedy: Porn Star, Cat Fights and Fredo Returns
Ripped from the headlines, yes, but “Law & Order” will probably pass on this storyline. It’s too preposterous, especially for prime time. And, yet, it is all embarrassingly true.
But When There’s a Real Genocide, They’re Silent
In a region where over 200,000 people were slaughtered just twenty years ago, all the activists who have been yelling at Israel suddenly seem to have lost their voices. Why?
Sonoma State University President Retires
Announcement comes one day after Pres. Mike Lee. took a leave of absence.
Hollywood
Spielberg Says Antisemitism Is “No Longer Lurking, But Standing Proud” Like 1930s Germany
Young Actress Juju Brener on Her “Hocus Pocus 2” Role
Behind the Scenes of “Jeopardy!” with Mayim Bialik
Podcasts
Eitan Bernath: Exploring the Jewish Kitchens of Mexico, Food on Social Media and Egg Salad
Modern (Orthodox) Dating ft. Mikey Greenblatt (@jewishvibes)
More news and opinions than at a
Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.
More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.