#grandparenting

My husband and I are both disabled. When we take care of our grandchildren (Bean, f age 3, Spud m age 2, Seed m age unborn due late June), it's imperative that the ambulatory ones learn to come back to us when called. We live near a parking lot, and our apartment building's commons are part of a short cut between the tourist cabins and downtown. Cars, strangers, unleashed dogs, older kids who can be careless.

Bean and Spud are learning bits of ASL and have been since they were babies. (Thank you, Ms. Rachel.) Their Mom and I sign to them as best we know. They don't quite have the manual dexterity for some signs but they do understand the signs we've used with them.

Today, Bean ran off and the husband and I called to her to come back to us. She put her hands over her ears so she couldn't hear us then firmly turned her back to us so she couldn't see us sign to her.

I'm flummoxed. I know what would have happened if I'd done anything of the sort. My ass hurts just thinking about it. But we're learning alternative means of discipline when it comes to this generation. We just don't know how to handle this new misbehavior. It has to be nipped quickly because it's a safety issue.

Carolyn Hax, Washington Post, 10 October 2021:

For years, my oldest son and his girl friend said that they would never get married; she was against it. Then, five years ago, she relented and they got married. They are now in their mid-30s and, by all accounts, seem happily married. They are financially secure: they both have steady, well-paying jobs, neither has student debt on their advanced degrees, they own a rental property outright, they have a manageable mortgage on their home in a safe neighborhood, and they drive late-model cars. In short, as Friar Lawrence would say, "a pack of blessings light upon thy back." Indeed, my son and his wife have worked hard over the years, but my wife and I (and my daughter-in-law's parents), have also made much of their current "success" and happiness possible though our ongoing support. But there is a rub: our daughter-in-law steadfastly refuses to consider having children -- and our son stands by her decision. They like children -- she is a pediatric physical therapist and he has a teaching degree. So, an aversion children is not part of the decision. Her reason — or the reason that they are standing behind — is climate change. In her opinion, it would be the height of cruelty to bring a child into a world that faces such an apocalyptic and nihilistic future. I will grant you that climate change does pose challenges. And I will further grant you that our country faces other major problems that will be difficult to solve. But there is an existential question here -- what have my and my wife's life amounted to, if we have not inculcated a basic will to survive to the next generation? To make matters more complicated, they channel all of their time and energy into biking, hiking, rock-climbing, kayaking, etc. We have two younger children (late 20s) who are not married. We despair that they will make the same life-style choices -- especially under the influence of their older sibling. To many observers, it would seem that our kids have been spoiled by their parents. And on some level, that is true. But the urge to face an uncertain future and procreate in the face of adversity is supposed to be part of the human condition. Every generation faces some dire threat. My father's generation was handed a M 1 and told to go shoot Hitler. My generation learned to "duck and cover"; under our school desks to avoid nuclear annilation. How can climate change be justified as being so much worse and insurmountable than that? Any advice?

Dear Any Advice?,

You make a number of excellent points in your letter, but none is as compelling as your closing rationale.

Your father's generation was handed an M1 and told to go shoot Hitler, therefore your your son and his wife are obligated to use their time, money, and bodies to provide a grandchild for you or else your life and everything you've ever said or done is utterly meaningless.

It immediately caused me to ponder how our Heavenly Father sometimes treats us. We are on a difficult climb, and it can feel like we’re in this alone. We don’t feel His touch, and there are some scary parts, especially right toward the end. Yet His hands are there to keep us lest we fall, allowing us the freedom to grow and thrive on our spiritual climb to Christ-like maturity.