grandparents

Tonight, R and I stood inside the front door and must have said good-bye to my parents for a good 15 minutes. I know I was getting sleepy long before the door started closing, millimeter by painful millimeter, my mom's eye glued to the crack, until the very last.

And so ended my mom and dad's two-week stay in Japan. With them gone, and the little poopsky in bed for the night, quiet has once again descended upon our little home. Perhaps there is a pang of loneliness left in my parents' turbulent wake, but equally hard to ignore is, for some weird reason, "Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead," currently being sung in my mind with particular jubilant gusto by those little munchkin creatures.

I'm not a total bitch. I admit my iceberg of a heart thawed a degree when I saw how red my mom's eyes were at having to be parted from my daughter. I do feel awed and glad that R is so obviously loved, by both sets of grandparents.

But it's also kinda weird, to me. I once was told by a random woman lining up behind me to use an airplane lavatory, "You love them [your grandkids] more than you ever did your own children." And seeing my own parents in action, I believe it.

What IS it about becoming a grandparent? I guess I'll just have to wait my turn to find out. But to see my rather...composed mother-in-law transform into a warm, smiling, doting person when R is around...it's weird. I mean, until we moved back to Japan recently, R was practically a stranger to my in-laws, except in name. But they obviously love her a lot, and did right from the start. She could be some random child I picked up off the street and then announced was their grandchild. How can they open up their hearts so easily?

I remember my husband's friend, his face a little queasy, remarking about his own dad and little daughter, "He speaks to her in a voice I've never heard before."

Like I said, I'm glad R has so many people who care so deeply for her. But there is also an uneasiness that arises in the face of so much sickening adoration (not your own) for your child. I'm also scared as hell, because my dad has been planning his retirement for some time and lately keeps telling me how he wants to spend MUCH more time with R, getting to know her (i.e., making sure he's in the lead in the favorite-grandparent race, which certainly is an interesting competition to observe, as everyone struggles to maintain that veneer of restraint and warm consideration for each other) as she grows, etc., etc. We're talking "months" of time here.

How does one respond to such determination? My dad, who has devoted his entire life to his job, is soon going to have to redirect all that terrifying energy and focus into other areas--namely my child, from the looks of things. He also just sent a text message from the airport to my phone, expressing his hopes that I will give R the "chance of a christian upbringing." Sigh. I'm going to bed early.