“From Mama Lectures to Grandma Blessings - Won’t He Do It?”
Let me tell you something I never thought I’d say about myself:
My children think I have been body-snatched.
According to them, I am not the same woman who raised three girls with a stare so sharp it could slice through concrete. I am not the same mama who could deliver a whole hour-long sermon just because someone slammed a door too hard or breathed too dramatic.
Back in the day, my little “talks” lasted so long you could’ve sworn I had a pulpit in my living room. The girls would sit on the edge of the couch like they were waiting on a final altar call.
But now? Now that I have grandchildren? Whew. Now I’m the woman saying:
“Leave them babies alone. They’re just testing the boundaries!”
“Let ’em express themselves.”
“They’ll grow out of it. Just let ’em be children.”
And the looks my daughters give me?
Pure betrayal.
Like I traded in the Ten Commandments for a coupon book and a soft blanket. They say, “Mom… WHO is this woman? Because it can’t be the same mama we grew up with!”
And here’s the truth:
They’re right.
I am not the same woman.
I’ve lived too much life not to soften.
I’ve watched storms roll in and roll out.
I’ve seen prayers answered, hearts healed, and women — my daughters — rise into their own strength.
And somewhere along the way, I realized:
Kids don’t need perfection.
They need patience.
They need presence.
They need love — and yes, a little spoiling never hurt nobody.
Now here’s the part that might shock my daughters even more: I could’ve written this whole blog bragging about my grands, but instead I chose to write about the joy of being a grandma… which includes bragging, so here we are.
Between my four older grands (24, 22, 17 and 15) and now my new bonus grandson—a sweet little 5-year-old who arrived with my daughter’s remarriage—my heart has stretched wider than I ever imagined. . More kids doesn’t mean less love; it means God just pulled out extra blessings.
My bonus grandson FaceTimes me every week—usually during bath time—which almost got me in trouble one night because “nana” (as he calls me) was two seconds away from an unintended live show. Lord, be a shower curtain!
And my older grandsons, well, let me tell you, my middle grandson messages me with these dramatic, heartfelt cries of:
“Grandma… Can you send me money for lunch?”
So like the soft fool I’ve become, I immediately Zelle him money— because in my mind, my daughter must surely be starving this child half to death. We cannot have that on my watch.
(Now, do I know that he has plenty of food at home and just doesn’t want what’s in the kitchen? Yes. Yes, I do. But that’s my baby.)
Then there’s my oldest grandson, who’ll text me asking if I can “send whatever I can” just to get him through until he gets paid. And my imagination goes straight to him living under a bridge somewhere… so I send more than I should, because what if he really is in dire straits?
And my granddaughters? Ohhh, those are my mini-me’s—little versions of myself walking around giving side-eye, serving sass, and ready to take over the world. You’d think I’d been reincarnated twice.
My daughters swear that if they had come to me with these same stories back in the day, I would’ve told them to “practice for the end times” and handed them a peanut butter sandwich.
So here’s the truth:
They’re right.
I am not the same woman.
Now?
In this season?
I choose softness.
I choose joy.
I choose peace.
And yes — I choose to spoil these grandbabies like they pay rent. My two oldest grands actually do. But that’s my business.
My daughters might call it inconsistency.
I call it growth.
Motherhood changes you.
Grandmotherhood transforms you.
Wisdom softens you.
And maybe that’s the beauty of it — they’re seeing me evolve in real time.
I am still Mama.
But I am also someone new.
Someone freer.
Someone gentler.
Someone who knows that kids remember love more than the lectures.
And if they think this version of me is different?
Just wait till I hit my 70s.
I might let the grandkids — all of them, from the grown ones who call me asking for “just a little something till payday,” to my bonus 4-year-old who insists on FaceTiming me during bath time — redecorate my whole house with crayons.
(…Okay, maybe not the whole house….but you get the point.)
Every one of them keeps me young in their own way, and honestly I wouldn’t trade a single moment of this beautiful, chaotic, grandma life.
Mama Wisdom Reflection
A grandchild has the power to soften the strictest mama, stretch the sturdiest heart, and remind you that every season of life still has joy waiting to be discovered.
Scripture to Seal It
“Gray hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” — Proverbs 16:31
