Grandma Irene’s Three Best Working Mom Life Lessons

My grandmother Irene was so tough that behind her back I (lovingly) called her Imean. She raised six kids with a less than engaged philandering husband (sorry not sorry grandpa) in a small three bedroom home 1,700 miles away from her own family. There isn’t one thing in that last sentence that wouldn’t require nerves of steel to endure. And endure she did, raising six successful children by anyone’s standards. When I found out that she had passed away this morning, I couldn’t help but reflect on a life chock full of lessons for all of us underappreciated, overworked, tough-as-nail working gals:

Lesson 1. Women need to be kind to each other. As the only granddaughter for many years in a family dominated by grandsons my grandmother celebrated me by calling me her #1 granddaughter. Corny, yes, but how awesome is it that someone called me #1 anything for the first thirteen years of my life (when my cousin Emily was born and we had to keep her nickname for me on the down low)? At family gatherings she always made her famous baked beans (I have seen that recipe and I believe these beans will die with her because it’s about a two day process) and two bowls of homemade whipped cream. One bowl for everyone else and one bowl for me. Besides the fact that I lived for—and still do—homemade whipped cream it made me feel special. It was a simple thing but it meant so much to me and still does. She loved all of her grandchildren but she celebrated her granddaughter. As women we need to be the kind of woman who lifts up and empowers other women. This is not a zero sum game. In fact it is the opposite of a zero sum game. You don’t need to out-men men in order to be successful. If more women win and are successful the more opportunities there will be for all of us women. So be the woman who takes the new gal in the office out to lunch, or has a box of tissues and a quiet office for your co-worker to vent her frustrations, or just tell a woman in your life how awesome she is. Be that person.

Lesson 2. Be independent and don’t be afraid to do you. My mother once asked my grandmother why she stayed with my grandfather who died at his girlfriend’s house in Denver (while legally married to my grandmother) and left behind another whole family in the same town as my family (total telenovela material). And my grandmother asked her where she could have gone with six children and no job in the fifties. Ouch. So when I eloped to save the expense of a wedding because I wanted to use the money to make a down payment on my first home my grandmother never let me forget it in the best way possible. I’ve been married for eighteen years and there hasn’t been a single time I’ve seen her that she hasn’t told me YET AGAIN how proud she was of me and my decision not to waste money on a wedding. And when I moved to Washington DC after graduating from the state university then moved even further away to Arizona she never once asked me when I was going to “move home and settle down” which ten years after having moved away from my home state was still the most popular question posed to me by friends and family. Instead she was like, “KEEP GOING!” Irene didn’t have a way to teach me to be independent—financially or otherwise. But everything that woman ever congratulated me for doing was when I took steps to be independent and strong.

Lesson 3. Your children really do appreciate all of the things you don’t think they do. Starting in my twenties and through my thirties (probably until she had to stop driving) she would mail me a package about once a year with things like old family photos or pillow cases that had been crocheted by long dead relatives of mine. I always made the obligatory thank you call. But now that she has passed I realize what a missed opportunity it was that I didn’t ask her for the stories behind those items. They meant something to her. But as a mother now I recognize all the times I try to share a story with my own sons that has some significance to me and it is totally lost on them—truth be told they couldn’t probably hear what I was saying over their aggressive eye-rolls and sighs. There is a silver lining though. Because now I see that while I might not have been as deeply appreciative as I should have been of the personal gifts my grandmother sent to me, those gifts made me feel loved. And so as a parent I have to remind myself not to be crushed when my kids don’t respond exactly the way I wish they would. Because they hopefully do feel the love and caring behind my story or gesture and that is what is truly important.

Thanks, Imean. I’ll miss you.