COMMENT
Grandparents. Truly grand.
Mine were Scottish on one side, so I can never hear a Scots accent (or an argument) without a fond feeling.
On the other they were English. Gran told the best stories when you were tucked up in bed with her.
When morning tea was ready she yelled "cooee" to
bring granddad up from his shed, where he brewed evil-smelling furniture polishes in the cleaned-out tins mum saved.
He tricked you into looking away and then hid your biscuit.
What will our grandchildren's memories be? It's school holidays and many a grandparent with a gaggle of kids in tow can be spied down the street or "on an outing".
Operation GrandAid is in full swing.
With the rising age of parents these days, though, we grandies have to be careful with the companionable nods and winks over the heads of our offspring's offspring.
A few grey hairs do not necessarily a grandparent make. That 50-something with a toddler could be mum or dad.
We have to keep our ears peeled for whatever variation of grand-name has been bestowed: nana, granny, kuia, oma, granddad, grampa, opa.
And when it comes to variations on a theme, nothing can beat the seemingly infinite permutations of family structure - so-called nuclear, blends, steps, adoptions - formal and informal.
My extended family contains all the above, but more important than what it is, is how it is. One of the most valuable things is the mix of generations, from toddlers to great grandparents.
We are fortunate because some families have no grandparents. Families migrate and leave the elder generation behind, parenthood may occur late, grandparents may die young, families may be estranged.
The flipside is grandparents who raise their grandchildren fulltime. The 2001 census showed there were more than 4400 and while most of us get to enjoy and give back, second-time "parents" labour constantly with very little support.
Frequently, though, an ageing generation wonders whether its career-focused or constantly travelling children are ever going to reproduce.
Age 30 may be the new 21 for the young and restless but the biological clock of would-be grandies ticks loudly.
Not only do wannabe nans and gramps worry that they will be too old to enjoy their grandkids and be of use and support to their parents, they fear that grandparents are a dying breed.
If the offspring of late-bloomers are similarly tardy in reproducing, what chance does that next generation have of knowing any grandparents at all?
Statistics support the concern. Children were 32 per cent of our population in 1971, a steady 23 per cent from 1991 to 2001 but are projected to decrease to 18 per cent in 2021 and 16 per cent in 2051 - the loss of 100,000 children in 50 years.
The reality has struck some of today's older parents, too. Finding themselves lucky to have children at all and already experiencing parenthood without grandparent support, some have taken to alerting offspring to the pitfalls of postponing childbearing.
They warn not-so-young'uns that when they are ready to nest they may find their fertility has flown the coop. And should they be so lucky to whelp, nan and gramps won't be around to take the litter occasionally, buy great birthday presents, play "hide the biscuit" and generally give time-honoured grand performances.
For those of us who get the chance, some things never change. Walking up a slight hill with my littlies, I launch into a song my gran taught me - the daft Grand Old Duke of York, who had 10,000 men. I'm tickled when the 6-year-old joins in.
A couple of 2-year-olds ride the seesaw and sing their approximation of Seesaw Margery Daw.
They rise early so if we have to be up at 6.30am we might as well see the hot-air balloons being fired up and floating over Hamilton's lake. Do we like the giant bees, the sun or the rooster balloon best?
Back home for breakfast. How they fiddle and wriggle. Then the 2-year-old pronounces the meal "deliscimo" and laughter mops up any irritation at slops and slurps.
On the morning ramble, cows are fed chestnuts (from a distance to avoid the raspy tongues and slobber), chickens get green leaves and bread (carefully carry any eggs to great-grandmother) and by the time the rural neighbourhood's been explored, its lunchtime.
Some things change a bit. No "cooee" to reach this granddad in his shed - a cellphone instead.
But bathtime's still special, and books before bed.
Kisses and cuddles, tucking in tight, promises to visit the zoo tomorrow ... being a grandparent is just grand - when you get the chance.
Grandparents Raising Grandchildren
* Email Philippa Stevenson
COMMENT
Grandparents. Truly grand.
Mine were Scottish on one side, so I can never hear a Scots accent (or an argument) without a fond feeling.
On the other they were English. Gran told the best stories when you were tucked up in bed with her.
When morning tea was ready she yelled "cooee" to
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